Today, without warning
We learned the name of a neighborhood homeless
And found ourselves unafraid
Tag Archives: city life
The Commute 20
A break in our quest
The Sun shines on a fountain
The green light shines best
Untitled 215
From our downtown sunsets
Christmas tree vibes of lit flat windows
Left up all year round
The Commute 19
Into swelling pubs
Rushing from office buildings
The cubicle thaw
The Commute 18
I wonder where we are
Eyes stuck in our proxy lives
Road and rail and back
Downtown Poetry
Winter
Wrapped in their blankets
The homeless rehearse a wake
They shall never get
Spring
A derelict Christ
Half naked and half alive
Napping in the Sun
Summer
The poor and the free
Bathe in Art Nouveau fountains
We talk of manners
Fall
When politicians promise housing
They never mention it’s made from their vynil banners
Untitled 198
Instagram is wrong
A grey palette ain't winter
Bums in shelters are
TripAdvisor
The tourist makes memories
And the homeless does laundry
Sustainability
With no soul in sight
A bum skews the middleman
And squats in the park
Downtown Haiku
Behind bare corners
The muggers rub their knuckles
And wiggle their toes
Metropolitan Blues
We’re hot in winter
The body splintered
Sweat and ash
The Commute 17
Outside waiters run to their cafes
It's morning in my gentrified corner of the world
The Commute 16
Now, four cars later,
The carbon copy freeway
The illegible Life
Sonnet VIII
Feet thrown to the fancy of each traffic light
A criss cross of rights and lefts and straight lines
A beautiful house here, a madman there
The golden hour on a forgotten square
The sirens challenging yield and stop signs
A bar where we made up after a fight
(Now some glossy bistro aching of France)
Until, like temples, come investment banks
Their landscaped silence, their slumbering might
And we, devout tourists, study their shrines
Tilting our heads in a bid to be fair
Finding our faces reflected by glass
The bare still life of lit bureaus at night
Insomnia 13
There's someone like me
Second window to the right
Caught in a blue screen
Anthropocene 38
Our cities
Fresh as morning trash
Just as promising and busy
They live
They die
They die
And at night
Bewitched by glossy new bags
They deny
A Working Class Summer
Time to wash curtains
Maybe give the dog a bath
Hose kids in the yard
The Commute 11
Bar a few young ones We wear long ashen faces The city dress code
Anthropocene 25
Our blood thirsty gods
Ashes over the city
Feasting on babies
The Commute 7: alienation
As a precaution
I should squat on the platform
And scream my lungs out
The Commute 6: to the Station
Timing traffic lights
The art of pacing and racing
And looking both ways
the commute 5
somewhere on the train the scent of long hair shampooed a callback to youth
a bus stop, 8 a.m. -the commute 4
the cold on my nose the biblical rock pouring the tissues drinking
the commute 3
heads at an angle
home miles ahead of the door
lovers on a train
the commute 2
find a subway vent then find an armful of leaves not nine o'clock yet
rincondeltraidor 