Bob Waynepoet, writer, memoirist Assembly Line Bluesby Bob Wayne | May 19, 2023 | Poetry | 0 CommentsTwo joints before first shift, recovery from last night, lube the line.Read MoreBroken Breadby Bob Wayne | May 19, 2023 | Poetry | 0 CommentsI can’t see the path. My sight is twisted.I scrabble with bare hands,Read MoreEarly Morning in Northern Minnesotaby Bob Wayne | May 19, 2023 | Poetry | 0 CommentsThe wonky old aluminum window, austere and squealing...Read MoreIf Jesus Came to Danceby Bob Wayne | May 19, 2023 | Poetry | 0 CommentsIf Jesus came to dance, what would the Buddha say?...Read MoreJustby Bob Wayne | May 19, 2023 | Poetry | 0 CommentsMy fountain burbles, and Klemmer’s sweet sax sings me...Read MoreLayoffsby Bob Wayne | May 19, 2023 | Poetry | 0 CommentsAh, morning at the office. Nothing like the fresh...Read MoreNancyby Bob Wayne | May 19, 2023 | Poetry | 0 CommentsWe were lovers long ago, I remember her face in the...Read MoreI Feel Likeby Bob Wayne | May 19, 2023 | Poetry | 0 CommentsI feel like… I never should have made Left Turns. A...Read MoreNew Dayby Bob Wayne | May 19, 2023 | Poetry | 0 CommentsSomething inside my skin moves and I watch it scurry...Read MoreShadowby Bob Wayne | May 19, 2023 | Poetry | 0 CommentsDoes my shadow feel? I see his foot tapping to the...Read More
