By Bruno Talerico
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There is a mystiquewhen we listen closelyto the poetry of others. We hear not simply our own sentiments,but commonalities that intersectwith the webof their life stories. © 2026 Bruno Talerico165/365
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As seeds germinate in the underground,I am inspired to understand,in the luminous company of morose prose,that growth does not always occurwithin the light. © 2026 Bruno Talerico 163/365
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We all experience anguish,loneliness, and pain. As I relish the painthat fills the empty spaceleft by my father’s death,time and space losetheir sense of linearity. Gaps, jumps, and skipsnow definemy clock and calendar. © 2026 Bruno Talerico162/365
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Poems are time capsuleswritten for peopleto read later,a way of speakingto our descendants. © 2025 Bruno Talerico161/365
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I am Siddhartha and Hannibal. The human bodyis composed of vastly more atomsthan the total number of humans who ever lived. I am Jesus Christ and Adolf Hitler Atoms constantly recycle and recombinetherefore, it is a statistical certaintythat I am made of atoms that were onceTricky Dick and Dr. King. I am Mother Teresa and…
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Drum Beat.Drum Beat.Drum Beat. Captivated observers witness fire eaters,tracing sinuous dancers. Drum Beat. Reverberating hearts synchronize. Drum Beat. Stars fire light into the night. Drum Beat.Drum Beat.Drum Beat. © 2026 Bruno Talerico158/365
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The kayakcould have been my coffin. I now realize it was my cocoon,my chrysalis. Drowning could have ended my life,instead, it was my metamorphosis. © 2026 Bruno Talerico156/365
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It is what it is,isn’t it? © 2026 Bruno Talerico154/365
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It isn’t exactly poetry, it isn’t exactly prose. It’s not as precise as technical writing and not as gossipy as a tabloid. It’s a little bit comicand sometimes morose. It is, to paraphrase that much-maligned expression,what it is. © 2026 Bruno Talerico155/365
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Sensory organs—fundamentally the only waywe can know the world. Caress of an autumn breeze,hot chocolate and caramel, petrichor of first summer rain,chill of night, sunshine sight. Sensation funneling into the brainwhere our mind canevaluate,categorizeand tabulate…until we come to our census. © 2026 Bruno Talerico157/365
Desert Dweller 