One day I decided to write a poem a day. I called it "The Folded Poems" because I pretended finding them under a chair written on the folded pieces of paper. The only criteria for the poems to be, was my own endorsement. I was the judge. If it "sounded" right, I kept it. Keeping with the pace, though, was not easy. Here I am posting them up to date. I am still writing, but not necessarily every day.
Monday, December 5, 2016
The gust of wind has swept away my father, but walls retain his life, his fainting presence, his paintings on display, and I confuse their artistic merit with the holistic merit of his life.
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