
{Originally posted March 26, 2024} Tonight we ordered the house salad, with finely shaved radicchio, scattered with pillowy cubes of mozzarella and small diced heirloom tomatoes folded within an exuberant vinaigrette. We reevaluated the menu and weighed the evening’s specials inside a neighborhood Italian restaurant filled with people who might answer often to Nana or
A soft spot gone dark under shiny apple skin but still tender under gentle pressure the once sweet flesh releases its youth and expectation of desirability downward its sugars feed arsenic-swollen seeds growing more bitter and slick with maturity harmless if swallowed sparingly deadly if consumed with abandon bite after bite the expected flavor of
My father died this Monday, January 13, 2025, one month shy of turning 92. The United States of America will die this Monday, January 20, 2025 at the age of 248. I don’t write this to garner attention, opinions or rebuttal. I write this to be a marker in time. Like I always have. Like
I am very proud to have a piece selected to be included in this stellar collection of work by many fine writers and poets. This book is only available in paperback and can be found on Amazon.
LALANATIVE is a collection of writings by Franchon J. Whitby. (c) 2023