Pungent Sound Journal of Pulp Poetry

The smiles seemed sincere
as I drove away.
No watery eyes, except mine.

And when I call at night
there's laughter,
as if it's served for dinner -
not the somber meatloaf
and silence I remember.

That's when it hits.
I knew they'd survive,
but I never thought they'd thrive.

It's like when I learned
my fa...

Being an accomplished white middle aged man in my sixties, it’s my burden to give advice to others especially when they don’t ask for it. They’re the ones who need my advice the most.

I was walking to work after stopping at Breadcraft for my tasty morning pastry and large iced coffee. Ordinarily I don’t see color. Like, seriously, this was the first time I ever saw ...