Muddled figures glide where once you and I made a shape somewhat resembling an early morning swan on calm water Cold lake’s grey, crashing i...
There is no silence like the silence of people thoughtfully communing, pondering the sliver of brick wall through the window and snow on the...
This woman, unlike the other poets is known to me intimately like she is a hemorrhage of my own blood, further from a poet than I am from th...
My voice there echoes with less resonance than a single rosary said in Notre Dame As far as cathedrals remain, in my memory no more than a b...
Music, I am moved by music and the way it strains and means something, what? I am not sure… something to me, or to you, but it is different ...
It was the last week of October. David Sanborn and his wife Claire were driving away from Philadelphia on Route 1, heading out towards West ...
A muffled chainsaw hums like an insect water drips, insistently, like a clock beat A door clicks open, exposing the siren and sensual bass o...
Philadelphia is so peaceful in the early morning hours Her bareness so touching, her pulse asphyxiated, It would not be hard to fathom all o...
There are times I imagine a wide beach Inundated with pools of brackish, dull water It is eaten in large swaths by sea birds and clouds The ...
With a sip of watered down coke I am reminded of charcoal cheeseburgers And my parents fragrant with smoke, Mesquite and unknown, All smiles...
In autumn, when it rains for days, dead leaves fall from the trees in heavy clumps They line the streets like ruins from a fallen empire, ma...
the worst feeling in the world is wanting Chinese food late at night and having no one to eat it with
Today, I saw a sky I have never seen Grey and heavy cumulonimbus clouds hung low over the dampened yellow flat lands south of Philadelphia, ...
I’ve been thinking all day about whether I should write something or not about last night. Although, deep down, I knew I had to write someth...
The shape of my life is round like the two pronged tree growing in front of the old Leiper house (And when I say old, I do mean old. Thomas ...
I want to make love to you in a library, Listening to the quiet of recorded history Watching the arch of your feet As they wrap around the s...
I do not know what it is that closes me: there is the last, feeble moment of dark before the flickering ruins of light jostle the stars into...
I loathe the granite firm cold of my empty bed in winter. It asks of me to meet with your recoiling, like a tulip from the night, and wonder...
Here, in this city, death is not such an uncommon sound. In fact, it is an adjective, a descriptor that outsiders hurl effortlessly, as if t...
Distantly, a siren fluctuates, Growing nearer, louder, its Frequency mixing with the rumble Of a truck screeching to a break. Then, its grat...
Part I A soft, sweetly moist bulge of lustrously white skin presses down on the fabric that holds her in from me, a soft, imperfect reminder...
There is a voice on the other end, more masculine than you remember, less warm in its intonations, and far more formal than when you and her...
My favorite kind of night is in the midst of winter. The sky is clearer than a lake at dawn, the lack of clouds has allowed any sunny heat f...
You are in the smoldering red singed leaves of an oak tree you are in the sun glazed branches of the elegant old beech you are in the umbrel...
There are anxious moments in the deep hours of the morning fearful longings and for what? or for whom? anyone, a balance, an anchor the reas...
There are things that cannot be captured by a conglomeration of words into a narrative or a parable, graces of the world that retain their i...
Today I read a poem that asked what the ocean is to a blind man. How must it feel? To swim in a body so vast to me or you, but without scope...
Unexpected, strange things make me miss you quite suddenly and with profound grief in the regions of my stomach and intestines. They come wh...
Tonight, tempestuous and clinging to the last warmth of summer, is a night for the sweet, melancholy rattle and stream of the blues, that ol...
This was the year you had your quintessential Philadelphia night with the lithe Palestinian painter: A water ice on that steamy corner, wher...
On the day Erin moved in with her new fiance, I retraced our path down Kelly Drive beneath the bluffs of Mt. Laurel, where the mausoleums ar...
“Let’s face it,” said my good friend, a man I love and respect “This is not a great city. or even a good one.” Oh I don’t know. “It isn‘t. T...
Tacidelphia (that may not work, I know, but I do not speak Latin...bear with me, and correct me if you can)
You came down, the stairs, rumbling loudly, sounding like dad did when we were both young “Ok. I can’t watch this upstairs. I have to see th...
I had the beginning to a poem I wanted to write, but I wasn't completely sure what direction to go with it. Thus, I went two directions....
Something I’ve learned and begun to fall in love with is how on your back streets and little alley ways, where real intimacy waits, the curb...
This is a poem cut from the same cloth as the last (thanks, e.e. cummings) - I would like to write a poem for you but as I search, and lose ...
This is the first couple of paragraphs of a novel I am working on. The premise is this: we follow the life of one man on the day of June 17t...
You emblazon into our space bundled like an Inuit against the cold, Or draped and laconically unfurled like an orchid blossomed in the humid...
There’s a point in life, and I think almost all of us reach it, where you realize, bluntly and with a cold finality, that you are not going ...
