Ink-Jar

         the sparrow visits hospice windows, head cocked blinking alive black eyes. So many deaths that dark glass absorbed. Now, fly back to decorate your nest.         the nurse contemplates the dust on the desk and the long snow covered commute home.         the relatives are blocked off by the pearly gates of hope and so they smile gratuitously like he had a 2-way ticket.         the man never returns. GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 01/15/2021

The Haunted Market. On our way in: The white witch, in her ghost cloak, got caught in a whirlwind escape. She was thrown to the ground and lost her misty ethereal form thudding to the dirt. The town folk cuffed her and took her white hooded mantle off. You walk into the undead’s strolling character carnival. Everyone is enticing and selling something.Surrounded by a library of stained glass; a lady with fine gray hair mixed w/ enchantment does her lost art of glass-cutting. G

Barbie is naked in the yard again. Next to the melted microwave that burnt her house down, almost. The highway traffic is fast, heavy, pounding, and unconcerned. And there is no trace of her. GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 02/09/2020

Even her eyes vanished. Memory slips like: in the dead night we all stroll around a vast parking lot one streetlight a town of blue dreams another forgetter swimming in the head obscure nightmare time a low-tide of information barely recall those features she was an apparition she must have been even her eyes drowned. GREGORY MARK SONDROL © 10/3/2019