The Woodstock Poems: Bread Alone

My mind wanders over latté. Here’s what occurred to me one afternoon at Bread Alone.

Bread Alone

Brave &
Restless you’ll
Eat candied hearts in
Apricot, prune, or cranberry.
Doom gives crunch to the oatmeal.
Alimony tastes like sourdough. Oh, you
Lonely warriors
Of the apocalypse, you claim the
Netherworld, but your secret fantasy is an
English breakfast with your mother’s marmalade.

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