Category Archives: homeless poems

favorite poems that have yet to find a publisher

After the Teacher

for Norbert I built a crude altar old bricks and white stones for the sculpture that gently bubbles, the sound of water in my garden – like Basho’s frog jumping in, you’d like that. Yet with morning coffee in one hand and your book in the other I hear lawn mowers, airplanes, and car engines […]

Thanksgiving Poem

Young buck drags ……….his hindquarters – eyes for escape – ………across the unlit road. The car ahead ………had swerved, pulled …off the road our friends out of their car ………shaking, pacing, Oh Jeez! Oh Jeez! in a field, behind ………the struggling, the useless legs.  Call the police. An accident.      Flashlight.      A shot. Heaving steamy breath.  […]

What Anarchy Sounds Like

“Get your ass up on the stage now, gotta rage until you die.” — from the lyric “Lovely Generation” by Cole DeGenova Anarchy sounds like anger rhymed with disappointment.  Young poets don’t write gentle blue wildflowers, glorious orange sunset. They don’t have that quiet vocabulary. This lovely generation wears their words inked into their skin […]

Pizza at The Trevi Fountain

One Euro in his coffee can buys the perfect pose. Romano street-mime dressed as the Little Tramp is more Zio Tony than Charlie Chaplin with his “assa nize” gesture – all of Italy in one sunny 1/125th of a second.

The night the wind

The night the wind left you on my doorstep drenched, shivering with rain and tears you carried a small brown paper bag stuffed with toothbrush, underwear, white silk nightgown hasty luggage, narrow escape night flight from a hospital. Prison you called it where they put you because you bought a dog and maybe a dog […]

At the Ancient Pond

Drunk with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you please. But get drunk.– Charles Baudelaire The hanging Spanish moss looks one-hundred years younger today, I’ve drained the ancient pond through a red and white striped straw and licked the salt from the rim, the frog sings plop and I’m tokin’ on his […]

In Our Lifetime

Favorite poems that have yet to find a publisher