Wednesday, July 10, 2019

No Hope Bar. By Donna Snyder



Sadness becomes the predictable outcome.
Because joy is ephemeral, we deny ourselves.
Others borrow love for a day or two,
drop it fast when it burns the fingers.
Anything more than a half empty glass
is a scary proposition.

Meet me at the No Hope Bar.
Drinks are on me.







Donna Snyder founded the Tumblewords Project in 1995 and continues to organize its free weekly workshop series and other events in the borderlands around El Paso, Texas. Her poetry collections include Poemas ante el Catafalco:  Grief and Renewal from Chimbarazu Press, I Am South from Virgogray Press, and The Tongue Has its Secrets from NeoPoiesis Press. She previously practiced law representing indigenous people, people with disabilities, and immigrant workers.

5 comments:

The Last Pour Before the Dawn By Joe Garvey

The night is cold concrete, heavy with ash. I feel the ache, but I am not lost. The shadows crowd the corners, dark and calculating. Yet the...