Outside my window (right now) poetry He is named Vincent. Maybe 80. With a voice carved out of cigar smoke And skin like the bottom of a couch. He sounds like broken accordion, with hints of beauty That are subtle. Always subtle. Share this: Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...
Always Subtle.