By Bruno Talerico
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Dear Mr. Trump,Please accept thisPiece-Ah Pizza prize. It’s messy and,by the time it gets there,a few days old,but that’s OKyou won’t be eating it. You’ll be patting yourself on the backadmiring it, proudly displayedon the mantle over the fireplacebetween the Venezuelanand FIFA concession prizes. I’ve also included a couponfor a special limited edition prizemade in…
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Rain dripping on the keyboard writes a story. A story no less durablethan symbols on stoneor pencil on paper. Stuttering percussive lines and dots,legible only through translators,who may or may notfully grasp the language—much less the meaning of the rain. © 2026 Bruno Talerico7/365
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Start early.Wear sturdy attire:most plants are heavily armedwith spears, hooks, and barbs.Stay out of the noonday sun.Ignore the vultures.Treat hot spots before they blister.Stay hydrated.If you drink whiskey,match it with water.Be cautious:of pretty women in cool shade—mirages that’ll challenge your budget and steal your heart.Open your eyes each daybefore sunrise, and let them closewhile watching…
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In the ballroom of life,sometimes you stumble and fall.If you stay on the flooror storm off in anger,you’ll never learn to dance.So ask your partner for help, take the offered hand,practice the steps, and soonyou’ll be tripping the light fantastic.© 2026 Bruno Talerico5/365Image created with AI
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Predawn skymostly gray with a hint of pinkthat makes the day.© 2026 Bruno Talerico4/365
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We the people—if we are to survive—must learn the hard music of truth,and sing it without disguises.We must name what happened:the ships, the chains, the stolen ground;the classroom that closes like a door;the wage that will not lift a family;the river made into profit,the sky treated as a ledger,the future spentlike loose change.We the people,…
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Ask and he’ll answer your call.Songwriter and magistrate, a judge with an interesting mix.A top-tier Western storytellerwith a twinkle in his eye,regaling tales of justice, courtly contempt,and kangaroos on the streets of Tombstone.Equal parts gavel and grin,call him “your honor” or “Buff Daddy”,but never late for dinner.© 2026 Bruno Talerico3/365.
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young woodpecker squawksgreen finch skates on thin icepine raises its arms© 2026 Bruno Talerico2/365
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One-a-day for a year.365 poems written.Job done.Mission accomplished. So why do I feel compelled to write a poem this morning?Done isn’t the same as finished.© 2026 Bruno Talerico1/365
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Every day I writehoping you will hear and maybe feel something.Without you,these pages are just pulp. But with you,they begin to have meaning.they begin to take shape—if not answering,then at least cleanly stating the question.I write these words,so someday I’ll understand. © 2026 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 365/365.
Desert Dweller 