The green fields I see out the window always remind me of earlier travels It doesn’t matter that I have not seen them before I think the color is enough to spark the memory Farmlands punctuated by electrical towers always let me know where I…

For hour four, I applied the prompt to a poem I had already started a few minutes before. First, the finished poem: The dream is always the same Who told bigger lies? I know, it wasn’t a contest but I’m always looking for that edge…

There is no profound in a three-minute pop song unless it is playing when everything goes wrong Nothing makes memories quite like emotion the music is but illustration it’s just that the words hit you in the same place as your feelings The catalogue may…

Nostalgia can be such a beautiful waste of time when you think back on the small, unimportant things Past glories fade into nothingness Past defeats still sting though perhaps not as much The ritual of buying a can of coffee from the vending machine on…

You will step out onto the platform into the humid embrace of the summer afternoon You will melt as you melt into the crowd of which you are a part but from which you are completely apart The streets of Shibuya will suck you out…

Greetings and Salutations! I have signed up for the insanity that is The Poetry Marathon (okay, half the insanity, since I’m planning to do the 12-hour version); this is my introduction.