They do physical exercises in the park every saturday, and every saturday I smoke a cigarette and watch them from the big window of my living room.
falling leaves
the different levels
of loneliness
Andrea Cecon
They do physical exercises in the park every saturday, and every saturday I smoke a cigarette and watch them from the big window of my living room.
falling leaves
the different levels
of loneliness
Andrea Cecon
Susan Beth Furst
sound on sound
original source
of self
Hansha Teki
this morning a grayness and rain –
remnants of hurricane Harvey
no wind only rain
how quietly it falls through the pines
as though having spun away
from the eye of the storm
it only wants to rest
among the pine needles
already sleeping on the ground
Jerry Dreesen
I enter the bathroom at half past seven.
As usual there are three things for me to do:
close the toilet lid, put the toothpaste back to the mug and hang up the towel.
Every morning the same sequence.
Once in a while I’d like to surprise myself and do something unexpected but I’d know if I planned it, right?
magnifying mirror
the tiny secrets
I wanted to keep
Eva Limbach
Peter Newton
if you die in your sleep do you keep on dreaming.
the casual way
we say
‘see you tomorrow’
Michael Rehling
the past. it is never really over.
headstones
the lies we tell
to others
Michael Rehling
It was just like that sun glasses commercial I once saw on TV. A beautiful woman dressed to kill on a downtown street waving at me as she approaches from afar. As I tentatively wave back her pace quickens. But by the time she reaches me I can see the disappointment on her face. “Oh,” she says, “I thought you were somebody else.” Taking off my Foster Grants I reply, “I am.”
a walk on the wild side delphiniums
Johnny Baranski