two-forty-sixty
hard to imagine
any coherent reason
for what we have seen.
measures of permanence
scratching the surface
to find us carving our names
on virtual trees.
common affliction
insecurity,
like a ghost, haunts us all at
varied intervals.
rivulets
early morning rain
destined to become more than
nature’s lullabye.
might’ve been
letters I’ve written
might have made a difference
if I had sent them.
mystery
things we cannot see
sometimes amount to more than
those we think we can.
wake-up call
pelting sounds on glass
outside the waking structure,
welcome us today.
Maxillofacial 575
Maxillofacial 575
by Karen Nicoloso
Poor Uncle Howard,
The dentist stole his wisdom…
Teeth. Where are they now?
even the pixies
even the pixies
have gone, and where they’re going
I cannot follow.
grande mascara latte
dumped over coffee,
she’s way past caring whether
we can see her cry.
inertia
negotiations
on the subject of leaving
have reached an impasse.
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