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You Cant-Practice Poetry.

WHERE EVERY POST IS THE LAST POST.
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r.Douglas

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.
Avifauna: A Flash Fiction

Avifauna: A Flash Fiction

Flash FictionNovember 24, 2017

I was hoodwinked into a blind date the Saturday night of my second full week in the orphanage. My entourage of fellow left behinds awaited…

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One Run Away

One Run Away

Flash FictionApril 22, 2016

Now when Mark the bartender, bought off the bet for five hundred dollars, the others knew, no matter what, that I had won. Here’s how…

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Sure Enough…Sunday Poems

Sure Enough…Sunday Poems

PoetrySeptember 27, 2015

And Sure Enough REPOST Comfort Zone? No Comment… Ha! “Writing comfort zone?” I’m never comfortable in composition. I prose in self-doubt, self-denial, and an ass…

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My Pretentious Old Man.   A Prose Poem

My Pretentious Old Man. A Prose Poem

SundriesApril 7, 2015

In celebration of the recognition of my public expiration date, we fine dined with whine and wine… and then, just on time… ordered a firewall…

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Pompous Disclaimer

The avocational abounds as content and its presentation attest. I’ve had fun and hope you enjoy as well.

 

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