Kurt R.A. Giambastiani's Blog, page 12

Red, in Black and White

My youth plays out in monochromatic Super 8, all shadows and light, soundless but for the clacking whir of the projector . . .

We Are

We are:

Losing Touch

For six decades, my feet have touched the earth. This did not seem a consequential ting before.

Seeking the Light

With my posts here, I attempt to include (or find) at least a smidgen of hope or goodness, even when the topic is difficult or life gets me under its boot. Lately, this has been a challenge.

Ratiocination

I am made mute . . .

Hopes of Spring

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I Need a New Word

I need a new word / for the conflict that / rages within me

Spent

Poetry does not exist within me today. It has been kicked to the back, pinned down by too, too many wounds, beaten and thrashed into a retreat of survivalist discretion.

Drumbeats

from beyond our horizon / comes the sound

My Last First Date

My _first_ first date was a disaster.