in the crossroads

the young poet caterwauled to acoustic guitar slamming out chords with brown hair in his eyes white shirt and skinny jeans and espresso foam art true love in a 16 oz. coffee cup he smoked scented cigarettes for hours on end the portable organ reverbed through the cold europe crept out of hiding one evening a month artists…

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conversation at twilight

nighthawks swooped and dived across the dusky sky as we walked down sidewalks bathed in lamplight strains of othello’s jealousies drifted across the street but we kept our own council and conversation why are tragedies so ridiculous? how does art inspire us? is it hopper’s stark interplay of light and dark or monet’s muted lilies that awakens your…

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