Mavericks you taste of cinnamon and fishwhen you wishto be romantic-and the ciphers of our thoughtsmake ringlets with their noughtsimmersed in magic-like mithril mail around mestove dark forest, pink flesh seatouchings tantric-make reality and mythsconverge in elven riffsof music, so … Continue reading Poetry Drawer: Mavericks: The Blood That Makes Us Black: In Maid’s Water: The Head in his Fedora Hat by Strider Marcus Jones