Today is America's day, and what's more American than Coney Island? I have a poem for Coney Island, so, by the transitive property, this poem is also for America. And like America, it perhaps contains some bad words. Coney Island...  read

Last January I staggered and collapsed. I landed flat on my back, snapping my scapula. But I can't be that mad. After all, assonance will happen.  read

Lonesome alto sax in the shadows on Broadway moans "And I Love Her."  read

I dreamed of you last night but it wasn’t you it was another dog who looked just like you but I was only borrowing her at the whim of some unseen and uncaring entity sometimes the dog was there and...  read

Nail salon workers Lined up in a row of five Taking a selfie  read

Oreo packet, rip'd open and crush'd on the subway floor. Tragic. —for the kid in all of us  read

Tourists in Times Square Blocking the sidewalk to gape At an ambulance  read

And I remember standing on the wall. As they kissed, we shot over their heads. Just for one day, can't we be heroes?  read

Little neighbor girl Waving to a cardinal: "Parrot! Hi, parrot!"  read

This poem debuted live at Tuesday Funk #48 in Chicago on September 4, 2012, the same day it was written. I've submitted it to a few editors since then, but since they (probably sensibly) turned it down, my birthday present...  read