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
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 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…
Leave a CommentThey never say good morning. They rarely say good night. They never ask how are you, or, is everything all right?They don’t press about your business as you press on…
Leave a CommentWhen I have fears that I shall cease to be,
I know the ugly beauty of that truth.