By Bruno Talerico
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Be careful what fears you pollinate.How much dough gets spent onhaunted-house tours—fifteen dollars a head?Some step into the daywith pockets full of darkness,still shakingas they clock in.Do haunted peopleoutnumber haunted houses?One hand clappingwon’t feed a familylike two hands working.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 328/365.
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In my experience, the more I pay attentionto the currentinstead of the words,the better I understand.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 327/365.Image from the internet.
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Sometimes I wonder if Bradbury, Bukowski, and Abbey were friends—after all, their surnames areshoulder-to-shoulder on the shelf,elbowing each other within the alphabet.Ginsberg, Hemingway, and Ibsen too.Neruda and Rilke are parted by an ocean,and Zappa and Patterson are alphabetically distant.But there are doubled letters in their names,like a backbeat pounding in my brain, so now there’s…
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This is not coincidence,this incident of words before your eyes.Words find us, whispering truthswhen our spirit is ripe for whispers.Entities we encounter,each, a destined traveler crossing our path.Those we meet, mirrors, reflectinglessons we’re meant to absorb.What unfolds is the only scenethat could grace the stage of now.Each moment, meticulously designed,challenges the rebellion of mind and…
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I can’t imaginethe pain you are feeling.You can scream, shout,or cry on my shoulder.I’ll just sit here a whileand be.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 324/365.
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Smiling evenly at the stars,Luna glows, a placid witnessto ancient rock long ravagedby volcanic convulsions.The pale eastern horizon,pink calmly fading to orangethen blazing, blinding sunlightwashes away the chill of night.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 323/365.
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Taken—beside the sacred fire,sleeping virgin violatedby the unicorn’s horn.Fertile Gaia, now fertilized,gives tortured claw-torn birthto gryphon and pegasus.Renamed, diminished Demeter,she suckles Romulus and Remus,rears Gilgamesh and Thor,mothers Athena and Guinevere.Eaten by age, crone goddess,grieves them as they turn to ashor wander underworlds, mourning most of allher maiden’s long-forgotten name.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 320/365.Image created…
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Preachers, imams and wizards, all sleep, wake,love, hate.Witches, clerics and shamansall eat, drink,shit, piss.Curanderas, priests and rabbis,all liveand all die.Gurus, healers, sinners,all gain their powerfrom the same source.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 322/365.
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days fly past like dreamsdreams float by like days on the riverbank © 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 321/365.
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Every journey begins somewhere.In the shadows of the forest canopy,eggs fry, splattering bacon fat.Coffee percolates.Where trees have fallenmushrooms will grow.I don’t know how this ends,but I think I’m ready.Campfire tales say Sasquatchwalks beside the vulnerablefollowing closely in the shadows.Dancing in moonlight,walking naked in the breeze.She breathes cedar and pine—at easemore peaceful than those who surround…
Desert Dweller 