William Simone Di Piero
William Simone Di Piero Poems
Comments about William Simone Di Piero
Chicago And December
Trying to find my roost
one lidded, late afternoon,
the consolation of color
worked up like neediness,
like craving chocolate,
I'm at Art Institute favorites:
her bashful attention fixed
to place things just right,
whose fishy fingers seem
never to do a day's work,
the great stone lions outside
by jumbo wreaths and ribbons
municipal good cheer
yoked around their heads.
Mealy mist. Furred air.
The Green Man
rumdumb from last night's shrubbery tryst
exhales soot, fernseed, shoots and vines,
brings his hot breath from the city park's wood,
saying a song we don't understand
through the briar and bay leaves of his beard.
And in Philadelphia, 1954,
out of late autumn's darkening he came,
a junkman lugging a Penn Fruit cart,
straw bristling his face, crying a name.