POPO2024 Day 38

I bought a painting of a bridge.Attached to it are many silky,synchronous threads.Not knowing where to hang itat first, the entryway presentedas perfect; as a portal betweenworlds, to be traversed again and again.

dVerse — Prosery Monday — Woolly Winter

There you can see a very small patch Of dark blue, framed by a little branch, Pinned up by a naughty star. — Arthur Rimbaud, from Novel Woolly Winter Months-long winter drains, where no snow brightens, no gusts whistle, and dis-ease suffocates. Today, Martha rides away in the creaky carriage after explaining she needs color…

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POPO2024 Day 37

We, going northon the bike path, nearedtwo teens, heading south,on mini-bikes.Son said they’re bannedfrom any unmotored path. Better that than doingB & E’s or drugs, I thought.We all waved to each otheras we passed.Later, at an ice cream shoppe,we watcheda pudgy pre-teen with abackpack mule drugs.

POPO2024 Day 36

I learned yesterday thatmy 3 year-old granddaughtersoon may be going to all-daypre-school. This morning, after sleeping on it, I woke up crying.A voice – god’s or my own –said all of us belongto the world.

POPO2024 Day 35

I welcomed a guest in this morning. Cool air.In the night, it stormed.How do I know besides? Digital time’s wrong,meaning power flashed off-on,and it’s drenched outside.Soporific storm-blessed, I got 12 horizontal hours;that and a wrong time thatwasn’t telling me, “you’ve had enough.”