Heading down the road
but not too far away
come wish me well
on my second to last day
It has been a pleasure
to say the least
It’s been real
taming the SAIC beast
Let’s toast to the past
and begin anew
Thursday, after five
$3 beers all night
Hope to see you
at the Silversmith
on Wabash Avenue
to raise a glass with gratitude
Dearest colleagues near and far:
I’ll be at the bar.
Protest in 7 cities
Chicago NYC Philadelphia
DC Seattle Oakland
Riots in two, reported
hashtag our streets
hashtag no peace
Helicopters still hovering here
No fly zone there
Armed with stolen swisher sweets
Six upward shots moving towards the face
Fewer in the knees may have sufficed
How do they train them?
Shoot to kill
“Is justice for everyone except us?”
Be Heard
Be the Change
[Insert new slogan here]
Words words words
Aggregate, aggravate
Fan the flame
Media blitz
Click bait
Attention eyeballs: look, listen
Buy buy buy
Black Friday
Lie lie lie
I sit out on my balcony
in the sun.
Finally.
Fuck, that was a long winter.
I forget.
We forget.
We are surrounded by water.
Lake to the east.
River to the west.
Up on the roof,
orange and white suits.
A breath of fresh air
few minutes a day.
Then the whistle blows
and they return to decay.
I’ve got the sickness
I’ve got the sickness
I’ve got the sickness
I’ve got the sickness
and it’s taken over me.
<repeat>
Sound of snow
twenty floors high
the chill, so brisk
sweeps.
Be still
listen
silent city below.
Rumbling train,
slower today.
Cloaked shadows
eyes squinted
heads tilted
braced for impact.
25°F
Feels ten less
shuffling uptown
and down
across the street
despite the storm
and alongside.
never say thy youth was wasted
once more, love, before you enchanted I stand
moon rising on the horizon
pages through a book until she finds a place
looks out at the lake, sings in a low bass
just after sunset
in the shade of an old linden tree
sounds of pleading
a little too loudly
returning from a walk
exchanges are hidden,
with contained emotion
as if talking to a child
starting out slowly, dragging foot slightly
“That’s just the way people are.”
glancing in the direction
at a moment toward the dock
carrying his fishing rods and basket
wheeling Sorin off
pushing an empty impulse
glowing points begin to move
calls from inside appear at the window
flower beds, it is noon
makes a fist and holds out her hand
before going in the house
a pair of French parlor furniture
the stage is empty
offstage, farewell sounds
the usual collection of semidarkness
written from stage directions from The Seagull by Anton Chekhov
window AC unit spits on me
I refuse to run,
I can wait for me
hardly a bench to perch
stench of piss wafting up from the earth
uptown, downtown, crosstown
I need to get out of this town
queens exchanging kisses
and domestic distresses
always in a hurry
working for the rush
soft echoes of sailboat chimes
interrupted
thumping bass steered by bathers
already burnt by the sun
TRADE WINDS
trade wins.
oblivious to the realities,
thinking I can make a difference
dreams shatter
one disappointment at a time
hope is gone
faith, irrelevant
time to eat the dog that’s been eating me
Pressure of Presence 