It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m in bed. I really regret not getting takeout. That’s not unusual. One thing about me is I’m a man with many regrets, and that’s fine. It was my choice. I wanted to write. Alone my stomach moans. Coffee isn’t food. I know that. I’m not dumb. I said that I… Continue reading THE OLD MAN IN BED
Tag: poetry
Draft (A3)
A book about learning how to dance…
Instructions for future humans #1
It Doesn’t Matter…