Bio

Tom Pennacchini is a flaneur living in NYC.  Has had pieces published at The Free Poet, Mojave Heart Review, Jalmurra, The Scarlet Leaf, Poems for All,  Free Lit Magazine, Backchannels, Loud Coffee Press, Mason Street Journal,  Portsmouth Poetry, the Fictional Cafe KGB Lit Journal and the upcoming issues of Synchronized Chaos, NYPL Library Zine and Spillwords.  

A good clean break

realities routine’s are a stone crusher
all of it
the jobs
the relationships
the striving
the failing
the achievements (I’m guessing)
and more begets more
all the do’s of you have to do
you can get tired beyond exhaustion
tired of your self
your thoughts (if you are inclined to that sort of thing)
and relief is much needed
some quiet 
a long walk 
to 
the middle of
nowhere
some surcease
the compassion of a dog’s eyes

it can sometimes does

I am looking out the window with my classical on as I ponder the rigmaroles of existence discussing such with the most fascinating person I know.  

Every time I feel I’ve made a valid point or observation during my ongoing convo I like to whip off my glasses to add further emphasis 

while highlighting a point that’s been made salient and to add further punctuating resonance landing on a note redolent of conversational flair.  For example as I gaze out 

I reflect to myself on the virtues of eschewing the virtual for the sake and embracement of tactility and doing the sharp clean whip on eschew.  

When I revelate that the only thing remaining is to become a saint there is a slow whipping on become. Like that.

Happenstance can work well and good sometimes.

Oh sweet exquisiteness, as I lovingly prepare an afternoon aperitif and just now at the ready of the first gentle sip (lord how I love my ceremonies!) the radio crows out “heroes” – Ah yes, aglow and a flow, I duly proceed to an illuminated bask.

The heart of the matter resides in the entire lonesomeness of the venture, and so dream, a much needed break from the prosaic, makes fantasy a much vaunted ally.
So it goes, the garden of eden and myself with menagerie of profound friendships and equipped with a fleet of canines are baying in unison at the rising moon each eve over the waters. 

I think of a bovine at dusk by the side of a country road,  looming and ruminating.  Life can be so wonderful!  And indeed the cat never ceases to contribute the phenomenal 

and to provide blessed insight into all things seriously absurd, a well rounded tutorial in surrealist burlesque,
It welcomes and relieves one from the strangulating  confinements of love and isolation, providing a delightfully futile longing 

for unencumbered innocence and a bit of air.

So it goes, the gallivanting ambition is to string two good days in a row together.

But for now, synchronicity dovetails to a tee and a thickening
of well and good in the here/now of slow nothing.

Do no forget: On March 17, 2024 Literary Revelations will publish a fabulous poetry book – Echoes Lost in Stars by PS Conway.