On Growing Old and Lonely

Sometimes bitterness creeps into my poetry the way a tear escapes even when you don’t want to cry. While many of my poems deal with vulnerability and pain, I usually express these with words of sadness and not bitterness.  There is nothing noble about acrimony.

(The bag lady feeding pigeons in the park is an old pastel of mine.)

Lunch Time-8h-200ppi

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