everywhere time inscribes his indelible marks there remains one untainted corner beneath a thousand wounds of boiling sensitivities our hearts are a lab creating poetic alchemy a lonely place where the unloved transform melancholy into poetry
In a conversation with my good friend G at Short Prose I told her I always wanted to write a poem using “mandolin.” She encouraged me to give it a try. Please make sure you stop by her blog to admire her wonderful poetry.
should I blame it on the stars when Venus winked at me signorina had amore in her eyes as blind virgins prayed in Saint Peter’s basilica my imagination took them to places they have never been Mediterranean nights tugged at my heartstrings as if I were a lonely mandolin
On Thursday, after completing my volunteering gig, I hopped into an Uber to partake in my Thanksgiving meal. There was a small accident. Spent the night in emergency. MRIs and x-rays show no damage. Just very sore.
I will be slow answering comments. And I am trying to catch up on blog reading. Hope all are well.