Poetry / Poets

3 Poems by Daniel Tricarico


I sit still
and reflective
in a quiet room
where classic tunes
from the sixties
and seventies are
my Eucharist
and a mug of
hot black coffee
is not entirely unlike
a cup of wine.


now that the rain
has ended
the birds are cursing
the puddles
and when startled
erupt into the clouds
like small black
fists, hammering
a sky the color of stone.


I have forgiven fewer
transgressions than God
in His infinite mercy and,
in this classic rock-fueled reverie,
hold my darkest sins
close to my chest. I am sitting
in a room where enlightenment
means holding a hand
without crushing it.
Outside, for the first time
in my life, Jupiter lies
next to an almost full moon,
mostly silver and
as shiny as a gemstone.


5 thoughts on “3 Poems by Daniel Tricarico

  1. I especially liked body and blood–having grown up in the 70s–and birds ‘cursing puddles’ in ‘January’ was a nice line. We tend to think that animals just take the world as it is, but maybe stepping in a puddle can annoy them too:)

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