Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Poem Up at The Linnet's Wing Come read

The Meaning of Nothing There was a certain sadness to it all, grey moss and violence remained --a sorrow music could not disclose where it came from-- it just kept floating by me, aging pure and perfect, the sound pounding its inescapable presence, a vow of eternal ownership. It was a warning, like the kind discovered when sentences start with "it must have been." As with the things that must have been, there is never an offering of a revelation, a meaning.

A Presidential Mistake  . toilet paper  or disposable towels...  insensitive son  of a bitch--do we really need  to kiss his presidential ass? . can we afford  another five hundred  years of insults, grave diggings, war deaths  and stupidity?