J. Barrett Wolf
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oldoddunique.bsky.social
J. Barrett Wolf
@oldoddunique.bsky.social
63 followers 59 following 35 posts
Poet, Curator of Value, Typewriter Aficionado, Cat Person, Handyperson, Meanderer, Antique Dealer, Seeker
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oldoddunique.bsky.social
April 4, 2025 at 2:37 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
My shop, Old, Odd, and Unique in Binghamton, NY.
A landmark there for more than twenty years.
Old, Odd, and Unique in Binghamton, NY Open Thurs, Fri, Sat 12 noon to 5 PM
January 16, 2025 at 2:58 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
My store, Old, Odd, and Unique, in Binghamton, NY is called that for a reason...
January 16, 2025 at 2:54 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
Smith-Corona Silent Portable Typewriter
December 22, 2024 at 1:39 AM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
December 15, 2024 at 7:40 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
For Ginger, Who Knew Ginger, who knew I'd slip away, would smile and stiffen ever-so-slightly when I touched her dark, flat stomach. Ginger, who knew of men and fear saw the weight of history but gently laughed down city hills to lunch on Lombard Street. Ginger, who knew there was no hope, swore she didn't know how to do those things she did so well that all these years later I still shiver. Ginger, who knew I couldn't win, foretold that I'd stop because, poor child, I'd been trained that something is wrong with loving a black woman even as good as it was, even as frightening, even as I write these words For Ginger, who knew. © J. Barrett Wolf / All rights reserved
November 24, 2024 at 1:56 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
Sign that reads: In this house we believe that simplistic platitudes, trite tautologies, and semantically overloaded aphorisms are poor substitutes for respectful and rational discussions about complex issues.
November 24, 2024 at 1:51 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
Italian Broad for J. Someday, your gonna be an old Italian broad with a grand set of curves and an evil eye or two. The crock on the stove will boil all day, while you craft vexations and blessings on the back of old pizza shop place mats. You will remain fetching, in grandiloquent earth tone skirts turning the heads of seasoned men, but they won’t matter – you will still be Strega, woman of bewitchment flirting through the night and driving the young men wild, your passion and fury causing storms both great and small that bear your name through a perennial season of hurricanes, typhoons, and carnality. Oh, yes, you will still be the choicest sin of the flesh in the eyes of whatever gods are feeling randy that day. Your breasts will rise and fall like meteors and thunder, while in a catacomb beneath the ages of Rome there will be a grotto, carved in stone the color of rust and garnet and dedicated to every one of your lips. © J. Barrett Wolf / All rights reserved
November 20, 2024 at 6:26 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
Any further questions?
November 20, 2024 at 6:26 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
The Death Supermarket At the Death Supermarket The lighting is Indirect. Tastefully padded red velvet shelves, Tiered gracefully, Holding the necessities of un-life. Floral arrangements adorn the endcaps: On special this week at $6.99, As if time meant anything to those passing Here where the customers Not the coupons Expire. At the Death Supermarket The frozen food cases have no windows. Dread seems appropriate As cold-edged mist escapes The open door – What is inside? Venison and chicken legs. The shoppers linger Weighing carefully their choices As if there were some way They might avoid Checking out. © J. Barrett Wolf / All rights reserved
November 19, 2024 at 3:26 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
Roja Beneath the summer sun, the copper prism of your hair spills thirst like a fountain on my parched tongue reminding me that feeling empty is not always about food or drink. I try to behave as if you not a warm, dry August night, as if I don't want to greet your hips like a ballroom dance and merengue all the way to Hispaniola, spilling wine and passion down Avenida de Los Arboles, making traffic lights blush their unimportance, when they realize we are all the light we need. © J. Barrett Wolf / All rights reserved.
November 18, 2024 at 3:38 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
Prettier Your skin is translucent, like fine china. I can see just far enough to discern your names, feel the spear-tip anger that built your fortress. I wish I were prettier. Not just better than the thieves and grifters bent on wasting touch and time, carving a lingering scar from the Mona Lisa of your smile. My most petulant chakras want to be another handsome drunken artist, but that foolish trade is done – I am an antique, partially restored by faith in the unrequited, an irony neither lost nor disrespected in this comet flight across the familiar orbit of your shining night. It is only in the infinite that transubstantiation calls us into being. Ever becoming, ever renewing, ever choosing to accept what is offered, in deference and amazement at miracles that look nothing like what we wanted. © J. Barrett Wolf / All rights reserved
November 17, 2024 at 5:29 AM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
Recent work given the tenor of the times...
November 15, 2024 at 4:06 PM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
November 13, 2024 at 1:11 AM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
Published in "Stark Raving Calm" by Boone's Dock Press, 2010
November 11, 2024 at 5:51 AM
oldoddunique.bsky.social
Greetings.
I am a fair bit daunted by this format. I seem to be floating out here with - as simple as it appears to be for some of you - no grasp of how any of this works.

I have been a poet for decades, heavily inspired by Neruda and many others. I own an antique store and collect typewriters.
November 10, 2024 at 9:27 PM