The poems of Simon Perchik have worlds of subtlety, while at the same time piercing their subject matter with a profound, precise detachment. Whether he's discussing death, fate, or the struggle of human existence, the author vividly shows us his most secret thoughts, in a way that demands to be read again and again. The strength of these poems will startle you directly into their multilayered meaning.
Drop Simon a line at simon@hamptons.com, or check out his web site at www.geocities.com/simonthepoet.
Simon's works here at Unlikely Stories are:
2002:
I run my fingers, favor granite
You can still make out the waterfall
This apple still warm
Where is the poison