Back in the small town,
we hung around the gas station
in the afternoons and at night.
We drank cartons of iced tea
and laughed about nothing.
We watched others live
the lives we wanted,
but weren't quite ready
to begin.

—Ron Gavalik

Inside the café, a cute artist
with blackened fingertips
sketched in her notebook.
A handsome boy took the next table
and waited patiently for a chat.
Sketching with a fervor,
oblivious to her surroundings,
that artist and I shared a truth.
Imagination is often preferable
to the daily realities
****** upon us.

–Ron Gavalik

I've grown so tired
of hating you,
but I’ve hated you so long,
it's all I know.
After the foul odor of death fades,
fresh air will replace
that which we cannot change.
Staring out the window,
my chest tightens from dread.
The pollution we’ve spewed
may have scorched the soil
where new trees must grow.

–Ron Gavalik

Create art
every day
If you cannot
then make just one
piece of art
which is the work of life
Make it imperfect
and worthy of memory
every day

–Ron Gavalik

There are people who love
what you do.
Others will always hate
what you do.
The majority have no idea.
Those are the souls
I observe on sidewalks
and in restaurants.
They are confused, angry, lost.
They stumble beautifully
through the fire.

-Ron Gavalik

Laying on my back
in the alley,
drunk and sick,
I gazed at the blanket of stars.
The cosmos above revealed
itself as an endless sea
of lost hopes
and sacred prayers.
In that moment,
I was free.

-Ron Gavalik

The poets in the digital age
hunger for constant approval.
As cowards, they hide in fear
behind the mob's outrage.
In a constant search for validation
within shallow mud puddles,
every penned word betrays
the pursuit of truth in art.
Lost in a fog of redactions,
I just don't know
if these poets will ever find
truth again.

-Ron Gavalik