Tuesday, March 8, 2016


In this world
you could
cry for a vision

That short strip
of East Tenth Street
was a long walk
for a little kid

Sidewalk littered
with horse chestnuts

Horse and cart
rag man
clopping up the street
calling out for

Emma next door
Julia down the block
Leukemia wraith angel
on a stoop
around the corner

You could cry
for a vision
you could holler

and get drunken
dads and uncles

Polish Falcons in their hearts

stumbling into houses
made of brooms and mops
holy water in the taps

bird daughter straining up
   from her crib
greedy for whatever
she can get

You could cry
you could holler

You could crawl on all fours
in your grandfather's living room
tattered wolf pelt on your back
and get a cane
across the ass
with a get-outta-here
worse than any wolf.

You could cry for a vision
   you could holler

You could sit on a rock
in an empty lot
grinning like the bag-of-bones
   you are
‘til the sun dries you up
and you’re just a skull
on your own bone pile
that some dog you thought
   was yours
is pissing on

And maybe
at that moment

a long haired
loose limbed
sun tanned

will come along
and laugh and


as you
are illuminated
and become

that kid’s vision.


1 comment:

  1. Yeah that was great. "til the sun dried you up..." Thanks for taking my inspiration and inspiring me with it. Also thanks for sharing! Peace