Tuesday, December 17, 2019
Books of the Dead
A vial filled with crushed bone
in the pocket of my jacket.
A yellow dumpster
with the word LINGER
spray painted in black
across its side
Something crunches beneath my sole
I don't look down
to see what it is
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Don't Chase
I spend July 4th in the apartment, alternating between cleaning and sleeping. I didn’t have too much to drink at the barbecue but I still f...
Junebug
A full year after the juncos made their nest in the eaves above my apartment, a pair of sparrows moves in. A few weeks later I hear the ins...
The Microphone
We drive to Reading along route 222, just like we did countless times when I was a child to visit our grandparents. A lot has changed al...
No comments:
Post a Comment