“Good morning!” appears atop of the stream, a foolhardy greeting for a pile of memes posted by parrots petering political puff to make our mouths smile or cause them to huff. Oblivious addicts, under-the-bridge trolls, we stretch out our fingers for our morning scrolls.
Find no purpose here!—unless purpose can be distilled from the peculiarities of the sights and sounds of one man’s collection of lines taken down while pretending to send text messages or at a urinal during a summer evening out in an eclectic Philadelphia neighborhood. Frankfort Hall. Beer garden. Biergarten? I’ll settle on the former. … More An Evening Out in Fishtown, or the shabbily doctored-up bits of observation I typed into my phone on the evening of August 19, 2016.
I once cracked open a diving stick and emptied the sand from it for no good reason. I walk past the fence of the public pool and am hit with a burning sensation within the caverns of my nostrils from the day I first jumped into deep water without holding my nose. Instinct exhales the … More Diving Sticks and Other Recollections of Public Pools
Fingers of a lady sitting on the evening train viciously storm the pages of sparkling new book simply entitled Christmas Poems. With a curious smile I peer down from where I stand and remind myself it is the 18th of June.
This one time when I was young the casing of a popcorn kernel hugged a hind tooth in my mouth for the better part of a month. That tooth has a number. My dentist is in her early 30s and she has that early 30s pep about her that most girls that age have forfeited … More Open Wide | Uber Ride
Maid and maiden in one, collecting dirt and dust brought down by time itself, is oft confined to her wayward thoughts. No matter the lonely durations when futile impresses nullify her persisting mind, gladness is pinned on her tired heart. Within dusting and polishing and scrubbing and scraping dried food pieces from dinnerware, one task … More The Vacuum Dance
These are words for Parker Dudley, my beloved yellow Labrador Retriever, as recorded by his best friend a few times over the span of his life. Fall 2002: (The beginning of a draft of a letter the 15-year-old version of me envisioned handing Parker’s veterinarian prior to his neutering surgery. Sadly, this first paragraph is … More Tribute to the Yellow Prince: Words for Parker Dudley
The drives seemed to be endless, those he took with his father. An endless motor hum, and endless drone of rubber on the highway, an endless silence choking the air between driver and passenger. The silence was unbearable. Paul always wondered what was going through the older man’s mind as he sat silent behind the … More Softly-Filtered Wool Sweaters
The sun drips behind a nameless mountain range. Lustering clouds bulge high then widen. One breathes in droplets the gracious welkin as if in sport. She is graceful in her expansion, cycling through a billow of personalities. Each begs for attention. Each swells for interpretation. A girl bends to pick a flower. As she tilts … More Care of the Moon