‘fear the morning’ it’s all i have left, this moment, because tomorrow i may be stripped down into something even more insignificant than i’m clinging to now. #barflypoet #josephapinto © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved. ‘From My Front Steps,’ ‘Scotch and Scars’ and ‘A Distilled Spirit’ in paperback and Kindle …
‘ache’ sung in all the songs you can’t hear. #barflypoet #josephapinto © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved. ‘From My Front Steps,’ ‘Scotch and Scars’ and ‘A Distilled Spirit’ in paperback and Kindle ebook at Amazon.
just leave the bottle… ‘proof’ weakness from an old injury. the broke breaks deeper than the disobedience of soul to bone. i’ve oft tried to mend myself with white cocktail napkins and while catching the spill they could never wipe the mess. there’s not much left but a photograph of us along …
‘obvious metaphor’ though pretty the dandelions choke and kill the lawn. listen to this poem #barflypoet #josephapinto © Copyright Joseph A. Pinto. All Rights Reserved. ‘From My Front Steps,’ ‘Scotch and Scars’ and ‘A Distilled Spirit’ in paperback and Kindle ebook at Amazon.
there’s always a challenge… ‘lorn’ good god almighty, you widen my eyes with clandestine grandeur, salve my tongue as vessel to your unknowable ways…only to rob me lost of true fervor, my faith upon my knees before eternal night, pregnant above my ashen countenance in bedeviling possibilities listen to this poem #barflypoet #josephapinto © …
and i go on only to live on beside you… ‘euthanasia’ recognition, spoken through your eyes. i heard you and maybe someday someone will hear me too. years spent like seconds. i woke before ready. a long walk before i tied my shoes. spirit moves along without care to pack and even slipping …
i’m just your average handyman… ‘whelve’ my father kept many tools i never knew how to use. little boy hands still feel little boy in adult bones. remarkably he transferred his sins into the soil of all my pores but to this day i can’t fix a thing. when he moved on i …
there is no still, even in dark… ‘pernoctation’ another then another more. so much time elapsed yet you’re home in all my minutes spent. there’s no keeping glass from lips the way i can’t alter your cells from my bones. another dark eve of legs’ serenade and what can i say i’m …
something’s trailing and it’s always me… ‘sciamachy’ and will we be? and will we be? and will we be? and what will we be, aside the nothing we are. round and round slaughtering the sheep and perhaps i’d sleep had not blood steeped this bed. sliver of moon about the only thing cutting this head …
momma…just killed a man… corps it’s never been about the good you have said but the supportive you haven’t. frayed on the inside, the diligence of tying ribbons round ribs like souls lost to war and never coming home. you wouldn’t know a thing of my patriotism in the teeth of your heavy …
Joseph A. Pinto 