Calle Marina

After a week of blogging, I've almost decided to quit. It seems so egotistic for me to write and post it to the world as if I have something prophetic to say. I struggle wondering what would be worth someone else’s time. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy writing for myself but blogging seems to be quite the opposite. Really I have no great revelations or experiences; most days are fairly monotonous, wake up, work, eat, gym and sleep. Knowing that, read my blog at risk of wasting your time. Perhaps in the near future, my wife and I will be exploring some foreign continent and at that time I will feel inspired to write about a not so ordinary day.



on old Calle Marina's corner,
where tram cars and busses meet,
we will sit under the Prince of Barcelona's patio cafe,

Clouds hang like dry dream promises,
clanging cups and unintelligible smiles
school girls with night hair,
and aging men's silver rimmed mouths

memories ring distant stories,
time isolated by miles,
a catalonian rediscovery of america

the foreign tongue has become a lover's song,