Rob, your poem drifts like a half-remembered dream, tender and yearning. Each day carries longing, memory, and desire. The way you reach for someone across nights and cities is heartbreakingly beautiful. Even sleeplessness feels like a lover in your words.

Beautifully done

I love this!
Everything single line

This is spot on. Your passion about art is as vivid as one could reveal. Your a true artist Paulo.

If Art was a dude, we’d be kicking his ass for taking up so much of our time!
yet, it’s a drug, and we are addicted.
You summed it up brilliantly. Well writ.

Art hurts, art is a nail in a guilty as hell criminal’s hand.

Eternally caught red-handed.

Powerfully penned, PAR. Excellent write my friend, you always bring the thunder. Appreciate you.

Damian

My father had dementia. I have written notes but no answering machine voice which would be really great. You’re lucky. You have some unique writing here. Glad I read this. Good one.

I wasn’t expecting the pictures this painted with words. It was so vivid that I could feel those memories even though they weren’t my own.

That’s a really moving and powerful piece. The way you capture your father’s voice and the layers of memory, from the “palimpsest of tobacco teak” to the echo of his working life, is just beautiful. It really makes you feel the weight of what’s been lost and the preciousness of that preserved memory.