Frolicking I wish I were until the end of time. Instead here I lay head-high in muck and grime. A song I hope will stir these limbs of lead, ere my heart deny the volition of my head. How does a man become a boy and fist a pile of hay skip in a … Continue reading Dreams for a heavy soul
Author: Nick Saba
I'm a writer who practices ultrasound. Poetry is my passion, and Irony is my best friend. On my free time I take pictures of people's organs to help radiologists make diagnoses.