we are all a flock of grazing sheep

Sometimes I lie

by the fence

just where

it stops growing

in thickets

and I watch them take

entire mouthfuls of a field of love

King of the Queen City

Vacant furloughed foundries

Corpses of great industry

Among Victorian tree-

Houses and towers concrete


Endless suburban expanse

And mirror dwellings line-dance

From one another they stand

Only ten feet in distance


Together they shut windows

As November carries snow

Home is where the heart will grow

Weary-strong of winter’s throes


Rusted, hardened, drinking folk

Have long outlasted the cold

A man come from Buffalo,

Or, the truest soul you know


no title

Sky shaded sertraline

and the clouds covering

our streaks

across the rock


We cant look down


at the eyes on the shoreline,

they can see us

from the docks

through the pill blue



Tiny on the cliff,

like the birds

they fish from the sky.


It felt

like I was standing

on the other side of the world.