I’m sitting here at dawn, sipping on one coffee between bites of two donors, a testament to the morning meals and early morning rituals that I attribute to Grandpa. Though, I’m reading Terrence Hayes poems new to me while a man two tables over refines his slide deck.
This week, it’ll be Ode to Big Trend. While I’ll keep [American Sonnet for My Past and Future Assassin: inside me is a black-eyed animal] as an alternate, should my temperament change or circumstances necessitate. That is the inner weather or the external climate.
washing dishes: a father’s glimpses 