by Mark J. Mitchell
He left the corner
where only a green light
blinked. A breeze
blew his DNA away
but the blue tent stayed,
loyal as a puppy,
indifferent as his cat.
She found his silver
guitar strings dangling
on a parking meter.
She wove them, quick,
into a net to gather
too early blossoms.
Mark J. Mitchell has been a working poet for 50 years. He’s the author of five full-length collections and six chapbooks. His latest collection is Something To Be from Pski’s Porch Publishing. A novel that includes some poetry, A Book of Lost Songs, is due out next spring. He’s fond of baseball, Louis Aragon, Dante, and his wife, activist Joan Juster. He lives in San Francisco, where he points out pretty things.
Little Leaf Literary Journal 