I stand (a flower dripping rain off petals to roots   as we hang the man who built the gallows, and   I bite my fist to save my tongue) an emotional   amputee, sifting the sky for someone to rely on or at least someone to blame stopped   in the middle of the street, brain tangled like cold sheets gazing like a gravestone feeling gloriously temporary.… Read More “I STAND by Joe Volpe”