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Everyone knows mirrors reflect,but some understand that they also absorb. A lover’s eyes peer beyond the superficialinto the unexplored cavern under the surface. Everyone knows mirrors reflect,but some recognize that mirrors have depth. Lovers don’t only look, they see—the spirit inside. ©2026 Bruno Talerico 175/365
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Not necessarily something to be reached. Something to approach, to aspire to,to refine, to redefine. Journey to unreachable destiny. ©2026 Bruno Talerico174/365
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Don’t we all crave this? A space to dwell in blessed unknowing,to embrace emptiness, to find the boundless,to recognize that realityis in the face of Love,soft and radiant, like moonbeams. In groundless moments,false identities disintegrateas we uncover the paththat leads to our true home. © 2026 Bruno Talerico173/365
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When someone you lovegives you a push,show gratitude. A push is not necessarilya pushing away,but quite possibly, a push in the right direction. © 2026 Bruno Talerico172/365
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Falling, falling. We can’t predicthow long love will last. Falling, falling. I want to touch you. If I touched you, what then?We could speak languagesof beginning. Falling, falling. Be my wild place. To be explored,inflamed, reframed, Falling, It’s risky.No chance to assess impact. Can we only love what we know?Or is love what we don’t…
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he plunges deepinto her infernomelting from the heat (© 2026 Bruno Talerico 169/365
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Miniature versions of mother quailfollow across solar-heated sand. Tall grasses oscillate,shrill wind whistles over ancient seabed. Lips crack, blisters burn,lungs labor as weary legs give wayto creosote mountain, ocotillo valley. Everything ends,sometimes sooner than expected. If I stop to rest in the shade of this mesquite, will the horned lizard hear my final breath? ©…
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I’ve always savoredbeing alone;refreshed,rejuvenated by solitude. Now that you’re gone,being alonehas a distinct sense of—divergence. © 2026 Bruno Talerico167/365
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Down the tree-lined lane, under the moon of a paradigm,all dressed in somber blackexcept the tattooed girl in pink spandex.Meandering side by side in pairs, or groupings of three or four.Chatting quietly, occasionally laughing.The only person in the paradewith an assured destinationwas the man in the coffin.© 2026 Bruno Talerico168/365
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Cracked mirror and fresh bloodstains,chic vampire décor.Zombies having fun.Let’s clap for the Wolfman. The madness in your veinstakes hold in the chill of the nightwhen shadowsare filled with doubt. Put your hands on your hipslet that old danse macabrewcreep up and grab youthen clap for the Wolfman. Dance and singto that graveyard jivebefore it takes…
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Desert Dweller 