Poem: 1:30 AM Wednesday

One thirty AM on a Wednesday
Is a terrible time to make decisions
Several drinks into a bad night
Shaping up to be a bad morning
Of vodka aspirin and self-loathing

Poem: Isn’t it Pretty to Think So

Drunk on Grenache wine
on the balconies of Barcelona
watching between siesta eyes
and alcohol haze the locals
filling the dust filled streets
dancing to flamenco music
twirling and swirling waiting

Poem: Empty Streets for Empty Souls

Empty streets feel lonely
Even in the yellow lights
Of ever burning street lamps
Casting pale shadows
On late evening wanders
Meandering cracked paths
Leading to locked doors
Shuttered windows dark
No safe harbor in the night

Poem: Chairs Up

When the laughter goes silent
Like a bar at closing
Where the chairs are all up
The floor is swept
And it’s me and this bottle
With all the ghosts of the night