by Mel Waldman | Oct 4, 2026 | Hunsbury Review, M, Mel Waldman, Poetry
The Kid caressed sweet visions of saving the lost and the damned, soft and soothing like zephyrs in May brushing against his olive skin, for his azure eyes saw good in evil, even in Hell until the team seduced the novice, “We’re family, caring for...
by Mel Waldman | Sep 20, 2026 | Hunsbury Review, M, Mel Waldman, Poetry
Inside the mirror, my face dissolved slowly, at first, a sliver of my upper lip, a strand of my left eyebrow, a small piece of my olive skin above the bridge of my nose; after I discovered my floating bio on the web. & now, 100 days have died, sucked...
