Bill Yarrow Life Life is a brazen Chevrolet in whose locked glove compartment Death, disguised as a map of New York State, lies curling at the edges. https://billyarrow.wordpress.com/ is a website, not a sentence.
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Bill Yarrow “Caller ID”
Bill Yarrow Caller ID When the heart gets a call from a heart better answer it on the first ring. Astoundingly, Bill Yarrow writes in lines that almost always form sentences.
Read MoreBill Yarrow “The Little Things”
Bill Yarrow The Little Things It’s the little things that trip us up: a small hole in a level field, an innocuous root in a well-trod path, a disinclined sidewalk… yet not every stumble is a fall, even as by a certain age we’ve learned to outmaneuver the looming yet are still upended by tiny […]
Read MoreBill Yarrow “Unseenly”
Bill Yarrow Unseenly Over the years, his face began to alter, becoming not round but rounder not kind but kinder, not ruddy but red, the map of his complexion now filled in with rivers of creases, lakes of dis- coloration, saharas of psoriasis, waterfalls of burst veins, tufts of vegetation sprout- ing with no or […]
Read MoreBill Yarrow “Tomorrow”
Bill Yarrow Tomorrow On the febrile edge of consternation, I hear the howling vowels of aspiration. Bill Yarrow is the author of The Vig of Love (Glass Lyre Press 2016), Blasphemer (Lit Fest Press 2015), and Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX 2012).
Read MoreBill Yarrow “People Who Go to Poems for Truth”
Bill Yarrow People Who Go to Poems for Truth What is wrong with you? Bill Yarrow is the author of The Vig of Love (Glass Lyre Press 2016), Blasphemer (Lit Fest Press 2015), and Pointed Sentences (BlazeVOX 2012).
Read MoreBill Yarrow: “Forgive Me, Leonard Cohen”
Bill Yarrow Forgive Me, Leonard Cohen There’s a price on everything and that’s how the dark begins. Bill Yarrow is the author of Blasphemer and other books.
Read MoreBill Yarrow: The Bitterness of Fat Tolstoy
Bill Yarrow The Bitterness of Fat Tolstoy He looked around and said, “The world, like Dostoevsky, is losing at cards.” Bill Yarrow is a writer who puts on his poems one persona at a time.
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