Grief rides its own wavelength,

reconciliation earns an expiration date,
regret becomes a badge;

some songs turn unlistenable,
but we listen anyway.

I check myself for a heartbeat.

Trains run reliably late,
and the self-immolation of dragons

continues, unabated.

Selected byRaymond Hufffman
Image credit:mysticsartdesign

Hugh does not prefer to talk about himself in the third person, but if he did, he'd tell you he's in a self-imposed exile on the east coast of the USA, but still loves his former home in the Sonoran Desert. He is the author of Odd Numbers And Evensongs and Auditions For The Afterlife.