Perigee

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.

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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.

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