Abandoned. Lost. Rot
on cobwebbed doorsteps. Their joy,
crumbles to sadness.
An online commonplace book
Abandoned. Lost. Rot
on cobwebbed doorsteps. Their joy,
crumbles to sadness.
You’re full of questions,
I can’t answer. My daughter,
I will let you down.
No season’s cold bites
my flesh as sweet as Autumn’s
does in September.
Fresh baked Cuban pan.
Raw pork loin chopped on request.
Dinner in thirty.
We’re at odds on all
things, but one. I concede. Your
fall sunsets are best.
Thunder knocks against
the drywall. Rain taps against
the flue. Silence waits.
Pink clouds stamped above
a city water tower
keeps me looking up.
Sword wielding. Power
absorbing. Elastic pink
hero of the realm.
Marseille. Bilbao. They
sing his name. Not for trophies.
For his character.
Feature reels unspool.
Super 8 millimeters
tell the whole story.