Tuesday, January 29, 2019

The Drift


The reflection of a lost thought
A retrieved moment wrought
For what I sought
The glimpse, now caught
A passing window, I bought
The faded memory I fought
Lost in a pint of malt. 

 - John Hardesty 
at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

The Mornings Are Hell

The mornings bring their misery and reassurance  of my life’s decline, hollow the marrow of life, empty the cup of hope and filled the plate...

  • Xiao Zai
      Avoid distress; forlorn hope,  threadbare of loneliness, even  Icarus’ boldness, jubilation, and  carelessness bedeviled his own ego.  Tak...
  • Walking A Tightrope Over The Ohio River(pg. 2)
               We always played cards in the back of Squire's Bar and Grill, a little hole in the wall place. I lost that night at cards a...
  • “The Sadness Will Last Forever.”
         Sitting in a death chair at the Cleveland Cancer  Center whilst my body is being pumped with platinum  grade-A poison. The six hours of...