Sal Guad wakes up angry
writes the poetry of swords
dreams, weary and exhausted
and steps back to the fight.
Because Free Range Just Tastes Better
Because Free Range Just Tastes Better
Sal Guad wakes up angry
writes the poetry of swords
dreams, weary and exhausted
and steps back to the fight.
alone in the early morningpeaceful, pets are back to sleepoutside, very still but not quietthe dawn chorus doesn’t care about social distancing early morning in early springcardinals chirp their bright…
Leave a CommentBerce moi I am sitting on our second-hand couchlegs tucked under me, book in my lapI am only half-reading. I have two drinks on the bookshelf next to meOne hot…
Leave a CommentWhen we lay like this, quiet and still, my lover’s head resting on my breast, his eyes closed, his head rising and falling with my breath, overlapped with shorter wavelength…
Leave a CommentEarly morning is the hour of the cat. He’s always up when I am, oh-four-thirty or so the moon high, waning gibbous today but still enough light to see with…
Leave a CommentFerlinghetti made spaghettihe probably shared it with his dogvery democratic of himI think he shared it with his dogthough my mom doesn’t think it’s real literaturebut she kind of liked…
Leave a CommentI’ll be your personal poet You be my reader and voice No one else ever need know it We’ll offer no other the choice I’ll be your personal poet I’ll…
Leave a CommentThere is an idea just outside my windowchittering at me scampering around the yard like a mad thingwhich I guess it is. The dog next to me really wants to…
Leave a CommentNow will I charge you in the band of truth, as doubtful thoughts and rash-embraced despair can bide the beating of so strong a passion that wear this world out…
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