Town is painted black
We’re blind in a thick white fog
Screams ’round every bend
(in honor of this weekend’s gothic fest in Leipzig)
LeipGlo contributor Chrissy ruminates on the month of November and what it means, now during the
Leaving Lethe by Elisabeth Winkler is a poem about avoiding difficult decisions and overthinking, with an
Our literature columnist, Svetlana Lavochkina, got a chance to talk with Fiona Sampson, acclaimed poet and
“So maybe this random poem found on a Tuesday still means something to me. And maybe
"I try to treat anything magical, or surreal, or possibly out of the framework of waking