i felt the outsider, sitting there under my hair, body knit up in wool, wrapped in my signature scarf of many colors, gloves in my lap, beneath chilled hands.
i was alone crowded into the space leftover by buzz-cut males with tightly permed wives, their tots munching crackers, tiny mouths busy mulching instead of crying out loud.
the music swelled and i saw you finally, center of my universe, your golden hair spilling loose from your santa cap, eyes wide in spirit bright, singing my heart loose.
A homonymless man writes shows what it's like to look up the laid he skirts when you’re lying prone(d) to the sidewalk, beer / joint / needle dangling from your hand /lips / arm.
Hearts of Gold
Synopsis
by
Frank P. Whyte
Portland, Oregon is known as the City of Roses. Of course that’s an odd name for a city whose mere mention conjures images of driving winds and torrential ra
The deep-dive literary meditations presented as stories, poems, and essays in The American Poet Who Went Home Again, A Mosaic of My Soul at Work, have captivated and inspired readers ever since its first paperback publication in 2008.
Reindeer
one word: BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :)
(((HUGS))) and love,
karla. :)