National Poetry Month continues on strong with long time FC contributor Salvatore Difalco. Difalco has proven himself in the past to be a master of imagery, and he delivers once again with these touching poems. Take a look, you won’t be disappointed! Bleeding From The Ears I feel like the moon is attacking me tonight under the crosshatched shade of palm trees, my amnesia an impenetrable white wall. If I see stars they do not shine above, they shine inside my head, among its clouds. I wear a rumpled sheet, my clothes and shoes nowhere to be found. The palm trees sigh like sleepy aunts, but do not speak of the laguna and the black surrounding hills. Shapes advance and withdraw in the charcoal darkness, accompanied by flashes of eyes. Nothing comes to me, nothing,…
“Professor Crow,” A Short Story by Salvatore Difalco
Things were a little hazy. I had resurfaced after an entire year. I knew it would take time to get my legs underneath me, and not enough of it had passed yet. Not by a long shot. Nevertheless there I stood, out in the world again. How much had it changed? How much had people changed? Had anything changed at all? I’d soon find out. The red floor was sticky. When I lifted my heel you could hear it. I looked around the dimly lit tavern. Sparse crowd, folks still wary, or paranoid. We might still be doomed. We were doomed. Likely somewhere in that spectrum, not forgetting our recent ineptitude and iniquities as well as our successes. Dudes reeking of ganja wheeled about the place with bleeding eyes and slobbery mouths. The bald endomorphic bouncer, in a black turtleneck with a large gold crucifix hanging between his pectorals, stood by the door keeping six on them like an elephant with…