Salvatore Buttaci > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

I know you are blue, see only the black of life, red-wounded by green jealousy, cast down to brown earth, blind to a sun yellow with new dawn&..

First time I met him we were on the long registration line at the college neither of us wanted to attend but the only one that would accept us. He ..

Did I mention how in the long ago These Sicilian streets were cobblestoned-- All of them!-- high concrete steps to break The steepness of my ance..

from the painted mouths of Hopi dancers live snakes slithered and hissed prayers for rain in a language foreign to the Hopis' Shoshoni tongue ..

how long has it been since rain drilled cavities in the street and you insisted it would be fun to run out there like lunatics throw back our head..

S eafarers take to the waters, but A s for me, I sit on the sands till N ight time comes and I pretend D arkness cannot enter this door C anno..

Sometimes We hang by our thumbs And wonder if we will be saved Or tumble Into the open-mouthed abyss. We'd do best not to hold our Thumbs down..

A micro eye chip A new movie every day What more can I ask #

Grandma remembers fields covered with gold harvests Instead of people #

Polar bears on ice They say once there were many Till the ice melted #