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New Poetry: The End of the Workday

A chorus of yelps
from the office towers
that scrape the sky,
from the buildings low,
barely dirt,
from everything, all…

New Poetry: Daydreaming

Standing on the corner of the road,

Watching the sky change from black to red,

Thinking of all the day demands.


Hungover from the night before.


How am I alive?

Dreams of Dolores

A poem

Alex awoke from a dream that Dolores O’Riordan was calling him.

Not by name,

Or even with words,

But with the green,

Mystic and nonverbal call

That wavered broken and lilting in her music

And revealed her as an old soul…