Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Sunday, November 11, 2012


by M.N. O'Brien

The cracked staircase
drips down the window
echoing in puddles, rippling through
a reflection of The Blue Boy. I know nothing,
not even Socrates or my mother's migraines.

I must laugh at the serial
numbers when the season comes
to an end. From the start we know the sun
as green, and the trees are paying
homage, reaching up as plywood stairs.


  1. Dope. No sure why it is called Transcript though.

  2. Accidentally wrote it on the back of my transcripts for grad school...