5:30 P.M.—Friday

p
o
e
m
s

Cold wind and cars

stall in lines

on N. Lamar.

The parking lot to the

“natural foods” grocery store

and the “locally owned” bookstore

crowds with machines that complete

the escape from ignored

old earth-bound time

questioned by carbon dioxide

leaked in a moment to obtain

a six-pack of English beer.

You Might Also Enjoy

Kofi Mnemonic

Shane Book

There is a great sadness in this poorest of lands.
The only Lambo in the land belongs
to my Christian friend.

poems

Tenebrae

Richard Hoffman

Today I'm smoke up the chimney over ashes of trust
and I don't see a Phoenix egg down there, do you?

poems

Further Reading

Heads Up: We recently updated our privacy policy to clarify how and why we collect personal data. By using our site, you acknowledge that you have read and understand this policy.