Sunday, September 8, 2019
The Thread Through My Days Comments
Rating: ★0.0
Helplessly soaking in the drizzle of print that comes down on this city every day, young writers hopelessly putting out free rags covering the pop scene.
Helplessly letting eyes linger over ads in the Sunday paper, feeling the vast societal ache of over-extended retail octopus. Maybe I should go to Penny's at the mall and buy eight pairs of socks.
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7/24/2025 7:47:23 PM # 1.0.0
The best memory pictures are bubbles I never got to enter. I am forced to identify with air, with everything that glints and glances, because how else can I crawl inside of what is rightly mine? ......touching expression with lofty theme. This poem on alienation and connection is well executed. Thanks for sharing.