The city

Sometimes, I have the opportunity to watch a tired city come to life.

beside shuffling jackets, corduroy against denim,
and through a frosted sea of glass i see a world stretch
and eyes break from sleep—

needle-point arms scrape against the sky,
the iron squirm of being cramped against
concrete backs, slippered shoes

of dank and dust rubbing against the
tired old brick of office
and appointment.

but in the wink of sunlight, curling up
herself from dream, i feel the beat of possibility
coursing through the city’s veins.

i feel the pulse of city ring into
a tenuous smile, a ravenous, bright grin—
and forth from that sheer and mild madness

ushers constant the glistening make of day.

Nighttime Verses

Nighttime Verses

An experimental new project in verse, combining the optimism of affirmations and

Between this house and the next
Abraham Lincoln

Between this house and the next

As our 16th president crowed, “No man may possess what we may possess

You May Also Like