The discarded oak leaves shone
as autumn’s fruits in the evergreen bush.
The rain pointed the way home and we followed,
I, on one end of the leash, and Bobo on the other.
It’s about what you do, but also what you don’t.
It’s about what you touch, what you smell, what you linger on.
They were the last people in the earth
He found her in a cave ten days after the world ended
She was just a child and he watch her grow
May someone forgive the soldier
who followed orders with his eyes closed.
May someone forgive the General, the Coronel,
the Admiral, the Lieutenant Captain.
Or The Alienation of Our Mourning There is a lie, a deceit perpetrated on our minds by our culture of visual images; of movies and TV as narrators of our reality, which affects our expectations about loving, relating to each other, working together and even, finally, even grieving. The paradigm of our modern and stylized […]