Read Me

Found a poem,left by a officeron the sidewalkof an unnoticeable building.Like the City’s violation checkerstuck a vivid ticketin your windshield,but for passerby.What did the poet say?We are made of carbon,all in our current formsby chance.By creation.By conspiring.

In Our Taxi

In our taxi
we take a shortcut
through 30th St.,
which I wouldn’t walk.

Which doesn’t seem
to end but carry on
with warehouses,
indefinitely.

And with the broken
streetlight disappearing
address numbers,
all graffiti, upturned
trash or shopping carts,
shattered shadows
into hulking ones…

We were in Detroit
or Los Angeles, maybe
Baltimore.

I think it is the
longest street
I’ve ever seen.

Glitter Frost

After a fifty degree day in Michigan February,

(The groundhog said it must be spring.)

it dips back into the familiar freezing,

and all the leaves uncovered from snow

start the morning sparkling.