By Bruno Talerico
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In the desert, cut with rain,there is nowhere to begin.Quickening breathinsubstantial as disconnectionof the soul accidentally revealed.Inner discord, retinal distortion,apprehension, sensation ofsomething unexpected seen before,My past continually fragmentson the ephemeral now,charged with meaningand mysteries of existence.© 2025 Bruno Talerico Stafford challenge 223/365.
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There are no morefortunate and happy people than those who liveaccording to the correct, infallible eternal laws of the multiplication table. The multiplication table never,do you understand,never makes mistakes! No hesitation! No errors! There is but one truth, and there is but one path to it; and that truth is: four, and that path is:…
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poetry’s neighborhoodscreenplays and literary criticisms,rhetoric and careerson the next aisle:wood-working, firearmsand how to crochettoward the end of the row:the big book of riddles, puzzlesand enigmas.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 221/365.
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We rise from the primordium,into the bubbles we call our bodies—fragile, imperfect shells in whichwe carry our souls through this reality,oblivious to the immensity of the truth.Thinking we residein our hearts and our heads,but without heart, head,teeth, and toenails,we are so much more.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 220/365.
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Mom and Dad think he is shy—timid, antisocial, perhaps a bit retarded.It never happens when it’s justGrandpa, the uncles, and Auntie Jay.Not when there is deliberate, meaningful discussion.Not when there is civilized conversation.Not when there are pauses between sentences,and even a few occasional contemplative silences.Later, when the rest of the crowd arrives—the energetic ones, the…
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Backstage people live biglike rhythm and groove,like heavy metal crowd,and platinum punk party power.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 217/365.Poem created with refrigerator magnets.
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Aren’t we the ones here to make everything right? Aren’t artists revolutionaries? Art is useless,isn’t that what makes it truly valuable?Creativity is a temporary visa to a less-than-ordinary dimension that lacks existential burdens—an alternate universewhere we ride the waves and breakers ofpure perceptual pleasure.There is a place for, a need for,a necessity for the impractical, the incredible,…
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Matisse-The-Cat,petite tortoise-shell calico,chasing her own tailuntil she disappears.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 216/365.
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Switch off technology.Wear fewer clothes.Take fewer showersand enjoy more late-night swims.Listen to the quail and crickets.Hear the owls and coyotes.Notice seasonal illumination:the slant of amber autumn light,the warmth of winter sun,the cool of summer shade.Smell the wind; hear its wisdom.Observe equinox and solsticeLeap headlong into spring planting.Celebrate the fall harvest.Dine alfresco,savor sweet, succulent peaches,revel in…
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There is a last time for everything;there is a last time for everyone.This is the last time I will write this poemin this place,in this frame of mind.This is the last time I will enjoythis sip of coffee.This is the last time the world will existprecisely as it is in this exact moment.Come, let’s celebratethe…
Desert Dweller 