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When mother naturepaints the skyI grab my iPhone andsnap a picture. Does that make me an artistor a journalistWhen words pop into my head,I grab my pen and write them down.Does that make me a poetor a secretary?© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 248/365.
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Is it wise to askfor information or advicefrom a felon convicted of fraud,a probable sex-offender,a liar, a thief, a traitor?By definition,The Orange Rhino has authority,but is it wise to question him whenthe answer is likely to be,at best, inaccurateor, at worst, an outright lie?Are the questions we want answeredbetter directed towardthe people who voted for…
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Sometimes the solutionswe are seeking aren’tin the places we’re looking.Life is loadedwith thingswe can’t explain.It’s easierto focus attentionon the things we can,though possibly,not as interesting.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 246/365.Image obtained from the internet.
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Gazing out the windowI see an almost complete world.Only two things missing:You,having passed on to the great unknown,and me, sitting hereobserving from my comfortable chair.Peering into my heart,I see an incomplete world.For you are no longer beside me,and I am on a different path,no longer the person you knew.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 245/365.
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Crones seated on worn rabbit skintend cauldrons, bubbling spiced limes;faceless mummers mimebusily bumbling bees.Hearth firewandering aimlesslyseeking safe passage—or escape.Crystalline dewfall quenchingViking thirsts and Roman lusts,deflating Norman egos.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 244/365.
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Lives eventually end,some disappear unnoticed.Lives wasted,damaged by myths of security,infected by legends of safety. Lives influenced byfalsehoodsperpetuatedby the misinformed,truthsmisinterpretedby the holy,good intentionsalteredby inaccuracies of understandingor translation.Meaningless lives leave behind lists:of goals not pursued,of unexplored fantasiesof unsatisfied desiresand forgotten dreams.Wasted lives don’t leave a trailof broken pieces,don’t leave piles of lovesfound and lost,don’t leave a vulnerable…
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The poets eye witnesses with impunity, glances into chaos,indignities and obscenities of decline.Like Atlantis sinking—poverty, war, famine.Like empires falling—fear, hatred, disbelief.But also, in parallel—art, music, kindness, generosity.The poets eyewitnesses with impunity,lips splatteringpros and cons, yins and yangs sloppily onto the page.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 242/365.
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Whenever a day passes,our lives are exactlyone day shorter,and our history is exactlyone day longer.A single dayalways costs exactlytwenty-four hours.© 2025 Bruno TalericoStafford challenge 241/365.
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Father sun sinks.Sky darkens then burnsand Coyote howls.Some are called to the desert.Inspired and energizedby the death, the dry,the sparse interspersed withthe brilliance and urgency of life.Coyotes, owls, lizards and snakesglide, prowl, creep and crawlpast cactus blossoms colorful as drag queens.Crypto-organisms cover the desert floor.Bacteria, fungi, algae and mossesknit a fibrous net that resists wind,forming…
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Secret words are everywhereon every raindrop, in every cell,on every fiber and every star.In the labyrinthine libraryof incomprehensible books,every line, every word written,is an unnecessary stainon silence and nothingness—spoiling the virgin purity of the void. Written wordsare self-quickening.Racing into the abysswithout full understanding.they stew and boil and stink.The void gagsand regurgitates them with breath of…
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Desert Dweller 