Category Archives: The Feral Poet

There’s no procrastination like feral procrastination, according to the Feral Poet, who should know.  He barely slipped this to us before Happy Hour Sunday. Arational It is in this light that things suppose to fall apart and thereby make quiet … Continue reading →

The Feral Poet was sequestered, wherever it is he sequesters himself, during all the rain and storms of the past week, and came up with the following observations. After Rain 1 A storm moves across the island into open ocean. … Continue reading →

A fundamentally simple creature, and not too keen on calendars and clocks, the Feral Poet has been lured into a false sense of summer by the recent spate of unseasonably warm weather here on Skinny Island.  He appeared at the … Continue reading →

Perhaps because his early Florida ancestors lived under Spanish rule, and remembering his own proximity to Latin culture in Tampa, the Feral Poet has always had a thing about Cuba.  We cite the following case: New Pines In green glistening … Continue reading →