Cartwheels in autumn
A tired parade in May
Moments to remember
Targets to trade

Eagles without feathers
A unique scent of perfume
These worlds collide in orbit
To create a fair weather tomb

A bishop has been played
Cold weather cracked the light bulb
It is important to wear a suit
To pretend, not to solve

The quest is finite in character
Like empty boxes once full
To be in the chess club is the answer
To a question ever so dull

This is for the dirty dishes
two weeks old that sit in
the sink waiting for a pro-
mise made each morning
in an attempt at normal-
cy

And for the matted cat
hair in the blue rug on
the floor that lingers a
day too long to be just-
ified by any mind that
claims logic as a prim-
ary motivator

This is for the unmade bed
and the pile of dirty clothes
at its foot

For the bags under the eyes
and the feeling in the chest
that never leaves and the
hope that tomorrow will
be different and new and
invigorating by some
great grace of god some
renewed interest in the
hope that tomorrow will
be different has that already
been said that tomorrow will
be different tomorrow will
be will be will be

tomorrow. . .

A man parks his van
On the side of the street
Gets out, runs hastily
Towards a woman on the sidewalk

He pushes her down
Begins kicking her, repeatedly
In her side
As she screams, “Jesus no”

People watch, others walk by
I think about the night
A Nintendo controller
Was thrown at my head
By my father
When I was eight

I yell, “Get the fuck away
or I’ll call the God Damn police”

And I think God believed me

Weathered time portal
Of broken tile and cracked concrete

Held together by discarded bits
Of well-used chewing gum

Urinal for the dispossessed
And fit for the finest king

Pathway to a plateau overlooking
The jagged skyscape of North Philly

Shopping cart sleeper in dream
So alone and so at home

Another visage of life
In all of its vanities and realities

Wayne Junction is the center
Of all things usual, unusual, used

Cracked ear drum
Paint can rattle
A sharp object protruding
From the boat with no proper paddle

The forest is lined with gas stations
And rows of fords and chevrolets
Columns and pillars of bygone cultures
Recovering from the denounumet

Glass bubbles and chicken stock
A finely crafted spoon
The hopes of ten thousand children
A moldy cheese of a moon

Quixotic adventures in abandoned quarries
A tea kettle set in the bath
The colors all run together
Confused by average 7th grade math