Thomas Mixon is semi-aquatic, is unconcerned by Denny's paradox, and has work published in Channel, Mass Poetry's The Hard Work of Hope series, and Keywords on RTÉ Radio Ireland.
A poem by Thomas Mixon
Though it couldn’t nudge the heat probe deep enough below Mars’ surface, the robotic arm carries on, carves out space in missions it didn’t belong to, till it does something Lockheed Martin’s best warmongers never built it for. The trickling of sand and soil over solar panels, burying bedeviled cables, leave me unable to imagine […]
Fear of flu drove us to plait our keys with hair we gave the right to grow through March. We knew the car would tempt our small yet not dead faith in those in town to get their shots, at last. So stuck with sound when we turned our heads, we found no sleep. We […]
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