three monostichs by Michael Estabrook

All of us should remember to throw-out our old stoves.



Mirage of mountains moving in the distance turning pink in the setting sun.



We are all of us stuck in our own private purgatories doing penance for our sins until the end of time just like Dante said.



Michael Estabrook small press poet since the 1980s striving always for greater clarity and concision rendering language more succinct and precise more accessible and appealing a Sisyphean adventure for sure. Retired now writing more and working more outside just noticed two Cooper’s hawks staked out in the yard or rather above it which explains the nerve-wracked chipmunks. The Poet’s Curse, A Miscellany is a recent collection (The Poetry Box, 2019).

Photo by Christoph Keil on Unsplash

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