Kester R. Park, Author

I, a witty human, buzz at the surf. It, a muscular river, paws at the shale. A mosquito and a hippopotamus, we live up to the limit of each ...

I came away from it all Pulsing with seismic aftershocks The feeling of having been open Of having let my substance slip From cracked hands ...

Imagine: the task of applying a coat of paint to the statue of a woman;  it would be to apply oneself  to each and every aspect of her beaut...

Just as the people could turn their heads in unison and form a bold new republic, the waters of the ocean could shift and reveal the shale a...

Your love is like a red, red knife and a case of mortuary ice. Your love is like a smoking pistol known to the procurator fiscal*. Your love...