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Heard at the Funeral
So, are you available in March? I’m getting married. Your father was a good man. Where would you like the urn?
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At Twelve O’clock, Longing for Eleven Fifty-Nine
The Negroni sunset off his bald pate says it all, says diabetes will get me in shape for prostate surgery
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Snowfield with Blue Fences
When the morning alarm frazzles the peace, best not to think, just rise into coffee to the desk carrying your brain akimbo
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Review of “Filtering Jameson Through My Liver” by Brian Builta
You needn’t read the entire poem, but you’ll like the hunger in the kitchen section
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Brian Builta 