It is the sound of the log splitting
and its echo
which marks my passage
into manhood. My father stands
...
Venus’s been hovering west of the moon,
following Earth’s satellite like a dog
looking for a bone. Each night, I walk
through Bryn Mawr, climbing each steep hill
...
Strike a match and light your sky
And stars will swirl like sparklers
Cart wheeling towards a black hole
...
On a pier right above the Delaware & adjacent to a factory,
a man takes a lunch break,
legs kicking absent-mindedly as he ponders
the number of holes he needs to drill through
...
And I sit here, hearing a muse snicker,
Informing me that I’ll never compose
A poem worth the time wasted on it.
I pace the floorboards and listen
...
Here he was the summer of '29,
driving a coal truck from upstate down route
611 towards Philly. He bought
cosmos at a road side stand
...
I
daffodils tinged brown arched over
hunch backed broken
...
“Jesus was led up by the spirit
into the wilderness to be tempted.”
Matthew 4: 1
...
from your past
like a lost sock
beneath your bed
& don't duck behind clouds
...
The ball blazes red on the horizon
& dissipates like napalm over the river
it could bring down the skyline
of Philly if it weren't for the birds
...