Unknown the known - red-blue dimensions yield
unfinished violets; a billion frowns beget
one funeral dirge to accent supernovas melting
promises faster than immortality?
In the center of it all, the Loneliest Man sips a coke,
assesses his empire once marqueed by
resplendence, far beyond fluorescence and words.
Every Monday, GJC will be sharing a poem from John T. Trigonis, a local JC Heights resident, poet, writer, and coffee aficionado, in our Monday Musings.