Terence Winch Poems

I can't think of anything else
to talk with you about. We have
discussed our jobs, our daily commute,
...

Old people cry too much.
They walk in the morning
to the railway station.
...

Whereas time has caught up with me and the boiler
broken down again, and day after day it snows and snows
and there I am, with my shovel, in the dark
...

Guy asks me for $1.80 on the subway.
White guy, bald, shirt and tie.
Says they towed his car with his wallet in it.
...

An old man arrived at my door with light bulbs.
I opened the door a crack
and asked what he wanted. He said he wanted
...

Father Ray Byrne quickly became
a star. He played sports, danced,
sang, told jokes. He was a man
...

All last night I kept speaking in this
archaic language, because I had been reading
Poe and thinking about him. I read 'The Murders
...

In the rain falling on her.
In wide open space I think of.
I wake up without you, smoking
...

The bar is filled with a foul odor, something
to do with the sewage system. People don't mind
one bit. They smoke, talk, make time, drink, dance.
...

My lovers have vanished. I used to have many.
One moved to Boston and married a Japanese photographer.
Another became a famous actress. Another one, who for a long time
...