I dreamed I was at a picnic table across from Donald Trump.

Dave BontaOctober 5, 2017October 28, 2017epigrams and conundrums, forest

old. charred tree stump in the woods

But he wasn’t president, just a racist old relative with appalling fashion sense, and everyone else was pretending he didn’t exist.

Published by Dave Bonta

I live in an Appalachian hollow in the Juniata watershed of central Pennsylvania, and spend a great deal of time walking in the woods. My books of poetry include FAILED STATE: HAIBUN, ICE MOUNTAIN: AN ELEGY, BREAKDOWN: BANJO POEMS, and ODES TO TOOLS. View all posts by Dave Bonta

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