Four Day Weekend, Brian Rihlmann

Monday begins as a whisperon Wednesday eveningI hear these things nowthings I didn’t hear when I was younger (perspective can be a real drag…) and as with other hated soundsI inexplicably perk my ears uplike a hound dog, to listen closelyto the whispers, rather than ignore them they grow louder, more insistentthey remind me howContinue reading “Four Day Weekend, Brian Rihlmann”

Homecoming, Brian Rihlmann

a hoarse dove croonsand a stained glass owlstares at me wide-eyedas it dangles from the eavesof the house i’ve been watchingfor the past two monthspretending i’m middle class pruning wind-snapped limbsshoveling “my” drivewayparking in a garage pacing twenty stepsinstead of five those eyes stare impatientlyas i sit in the morning sunshinereminding me of the manyContinue reading “Homecoming, Brian Rihlmann”