Blizzard. No. Syrup Smacks

Syrup has a strange existence. It doesn’t have the flow of a pocketwatch, nor the sting of a turpentine fairy’s scepter in the middle of a February blizzard. No. Syrup smacks of squeezed opportunity, the kind you’d find on your walk to the neighborhood dentist while conversing with a friend you’d just made the night before over bridge and lattes.


Author: Aidan Badinger I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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