It tears me apart
To stare in your eyes
See the joy in your smile
And realize you have 86 rows of teeth.
Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.
His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.
He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.
He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.
Certainty is life’s most profound joke.