Poetry Archives

I. CHICKENS

I am The Great White Way of the city:
When you ask what is my desire, I answer:
“Girls fresh as country wild flowers,
With young faces tired of the cows and barns,
Eager in their eyes as the dawn to find my mysteries,
Slender supple girls with shapely legs,
Lure in the arch of their little shoulders
And wisdom from the prairies to cry only softly at
          the ashes of my mysteries.”

                           II. USED UP

    Lines based on certain regrets that come with rumination
               upon the painted faces of women on
                   North Clark Street, Chicago

               Roses,
             Red roses,
               Crushed
In the rain and wind
Like mouths of women
Beaten by the fists of
Men using them.
     O little roses
     And broken leaves
     And petal wisps:
You that so flung your crimson
     To the sun
Only yesterday.

                            III. HOME

Here is a thing my heart wishes the world had more of:
I heard it in the air of one night when I listened
To a mother singing softly to a child restless and angry
     in the darkness.