THE NARCISSIST KNOWS SADNESS
Those distant mountains are not watching me.
WHISKEY IN THE BELLY
It wishes it had lingered on the tongue.
THE RAVEN DISCOURSES ON THE EAGLE
Majestic he may be, but none too bright.
THE NIHILIST ADORES THE VOID
I saw your gorgeous black between the stars.
A BRIEF REFUTATION
If love alone existed, why would you?
Tom Riley has been publishing hundreds of poems in the small press since 1979. The late Richard Moore wryly observed that Riley “writes like an angel and doesn’t need friends.” He is the author of the collections Translations from the Ogrish and Love Poems of a Hatemonger.
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