The Hairbrush
It’s waiting on the bureau, as if you’ll comeand nose into the desiccated smellof your old age and unwashed hair that leakedinto your cabled cap and headphone cuffs,the sofa bolster,…
The Rails
The last car’s backward lookkeyholes my underworld,the tunnel’s dashing lightsand disenchanted time,the drains, the rats. I rodePhiladelphia’s subwayOlney to Oregon;San Francisco’s N-Judahballpark to Ocean Beach;Boston’s shrill “T”to Wonderland; the “L”rolled…
The Invention of Photography
The adenoidal, glass-brick Fifties,Tarzan featured on the cell blockfor Moyamensing's livid inmates,doing their screening room shuffle,while Uncle P. talked to a guardand I feared things that they did not. *…
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