December 1, 2016

Night People by David Ignatow

See them with their backs
to the sun, studying their shadows
long and dark, and none thinks
to turn around. It will be night
and they will begin to move 
among themselves silently,
touching each other for signposts. 
No one will speak 
and no arm be raised
in a gesture, as they vanish. 

November 28, 2016

november post-mortem

petite doggie sits on a pile of belongings in the passenger seat of a dirty snowball, staring stoically ahead. starving artist I used to be a cafe regular with saunters past in a heavy raincoat the color of rescue. lone crow glides down from the leaf-thinned elm tree each battered leaf a yellow flag, waiting to be lowered and received. the murder feasts, pecks enthusiastically at the circle's mustache of broken bread. she must pretend, she must pretend not to see what she sees until she's clocked by the last punch of the day of the week, until then kiss the distant rings. verdant sea churns about the proud pine twins, squirrel bounds through the plush lawn, its tail an ash-gray exclamation mark. glum sky yawns, asks,

hey man, where can you score some sun around here?

October 31, 2016

Coyote does Halloween

I remember in my early teens, that uncertain age when you might be too old to trick or treat on Halloween, which feels both shamelessly opportunistic & a little embarrassing, except that the candy is there for the taking! My best friend, who had a little scar at the corner of his mouth which made him look sinister, even as a boy, and I got the bright idea to knock on the door of a family of Vietnamese refugees in my apartment building, just to see what they would do. I know and I feel awful now remembering it. So we knocked on the first floor door and announced, Trick or Treat! I would be surprised if we were the first to knock on their door but you never know. They answered with big smiles and offered us packages of ramen. We protested but they insisted we take the ramen, smiling & bowing the whole time, so sweet & sincere, unlike us. We turned and trundled off, feeling exactly like the little shits we were, and yet amazed that these desperate people, living twenty to a two bedroom apartment, would be willing to so joyfully give whatever they had. It was a truly humbling moment that I had not thought of until this evening. Happy Halloween, whatever that means to you.

September 18, 2016

first autumn sunday

drizzle caught
in a spider's
net. berries
dangle beneath
belly soft sky.
shine struggles
in its missed place.

September 12, 2016

Poem for the fallen (Dedicated to Fallon Smart)

sitting at a cafe's sidewalk table
sunday afternoon, black irish tea
and a chocolate chip cookie, late
summer sun palms the right side of
my face, my cheek.
traffic crawls past the median's
memorial for the fallen
girl who tried to cross
the too wide and impatient
street, anthology of
Italian women poets
lays open on my lap
as a tawny young butterfly
upon its sunkissed page.

August 16, 2016

I get high

I get high 


the chemistry I have 


the curvaceous 

cannabis clerk 

August 10, 2016

David Eagleman quote (and flowers)

"Each creature perceives only what it has evolved to perceive." 

-David Eagleman