Wings Clipped
During the Summer of 1985 the beach began to beckon but instead I got my wings clipped. In one hand I held a high…
Chris Bodor
Published Works
Poetry
Descend
December descends while November disappears into the horizon Weather worn scarecrows know about the migration of snowbirds. The hands of the clocks tumble down…
Embrace Every Day
The morning coffee that you crave is now knocked over Wasted. Never tasted Soaked into the carpet of your car. The unused umbrella that…
File Cabinet Full of Sins
At the Good Friday service members of the parish wrote their sins on paper and one after another they nailed their confessions to the…