Saturday, June 27, 2020

Hope all is well, since we've moved on to the BLM protests and the Boogaloos while still being subjected to the continuous whining & blathering of a senile old dotard who insists that anyone who disagrees with his antiquated racist views is a traitor since the last time i wrote.

The murder hornets and locusts have been a huge letdown so far, but the Sahara dust storms are pretty nifty.

And I assume there are still immigrant children locked in cages down in the southwest, so that's always a tourist hotspot......

man, i'm depressing myself.

be safe,


Tuesday, June 23, 2020

slowly going insane
another morning
in a waiting room
eavesdropping in
on three or four
conversations at
the same time
knowing i am
slowly going
the trick i suppose
is enjoying the
until the last star fades away
whispers under a
strawberry moon
forever possible
until the last star
fades away
sharing a bottle
of wine with all
the ghosts that
visit you every
night in your
the old lovers
the dead friends
the lost encounters
along the way
and soon, the first
bottle becomes the
and you'll wake
up on the floor
and no matter how
much you hope for
there won't be any
chalk lines around
the body
the end of this flat circle
i'm hoping to get
high enough that
i no longer can tell
where the beginning
and the end of this
flat circle actually
where the colors
float in and out of
my third eye and
all sense of purpose
is lost in an ocean
of neon blue sharks
and dolphins that
speak spanish like
an old lover that
actually says
significas todo
el mundo para
kissing someone else
she had the coldest
eyes i had ever
fallen for
her kisses always
felt like she was
kissing someone
i would always ask
and she would play
it off that i was the
one with problems
eventually, she
moved on without
any explanations
i'm pretty sure i
didn't need any
in the end, it was
simply a month
of my life i will
never have the
need for again
a desperate angel
a few lines on
the coffee table
you remember
these types of
parties from
your teenage
at least the cocaine
should be better now
a few thirsty fools
get in line for the
i'll stick to the liquor
and taking up space
here in the corner
it's not that i don't
want to have fun
these occasions are
better spent for me
drinking away the
blues into some
oblivion where a
desperate angel will
seek a confession
in these arms
it's always someone
broken from some
shitty childhood and
we can both see that
brokenness shine in
the smoke of confusion
written under a freeway in texas
never fall in
love with a
female mandolin
player with evil
she will break
your soul
take what little
money you have
fuck your best
friend and give
you the disease
of course, you'll
never learn this
until you have
to live it
you're welcome
J.J. Campbell

Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Absurdity of Understanding a City (Lafayette Square, Buffalo, NY)

Seeking the heart of a city
may be a false quest:
is not each human heart,
each structure
in the built environment,
each shape and flow
of the natural world
suffused with
the peace and chaos of urban life
irreducible constituents of
the heart of a city,
pulsating in balance
the life and death of everything,
unable to be localized
to any one place?
How foolish the human spirit is
to seek something
which cannot be found.
How foolish I was to find myself
at the Civil War monument
beneath the gaze of the Union
and her soldiers and sailors,
seeking understanding
in the interlocutions,
the laughter,
the sparrows,
the comings and goings,
the flags and music
moving on the wind
to the play of children.

Connor Orrico

The World with an Address (West Side Bazaar, Buffalo, NY)

Traveling to the City of Buffalo on the New York State Thruway
from the east there is a green rectangular sign with white letters:
Buffalo, underneath which reads An All America City.
I have seen and have been puzzled by this sign since a child,
not knowing the National Civic League that awards the title,
not knowing America, much less how all its composite elements
could be embodied by one place, earning the adjective all.
Decades later I still do not know, but some days I gain insight,
fitting one more piece into a puzzle of unknown (in)finitude.
One piece – perhaps a corner piece, so significant in strength – is
the West Side Bazaar, microcosm of Buffalo’s immigrant and refugee milieu.
Since its March 3, 2011 opening in the Upper West Side neighborhood,
this retail and food shop collective have welcomed all,
immigrant, refugee, and native Buffalonians, into cordial, spirited space.
Here the world is experienced – as much as can fit at 25 Grant Street --
and after meandering the mosaic of Burmese, Puerto Rican, Ethiopian,
Pakistani, and Chinese conversation and cuisine, I like to sit down
to enjoy an American city with Thai beef salad and the company of my mother.

Connor Orrico

Enduring the Entropy

Indifferent to my plans,
entropy seeks my

Life is heavy,

less as cliché
than as conscious
moments of hidden

Close your eyes;
heed your chest


Keep trying,
tired one,
to keep trying,



Connor Orrico


There exists a heaviness,
a headache from existing
whose harsh monotony
holds me in a morass.

Here Without Hearing

are actual
and always,
belief here,


answers are
absent among
being human.

Connor Orrico

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...