Poem: Vintage Memories

I keep bottles on my shelf
That I save for special occasions
Way in the back are those spirits
Saved for nights like this where
The loneliness is unbearable
So I twist off the top and pour

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