and do you still have dreams?


she asked, and waited

for the answer. i hesitated

before responding, watching clouds burn

above a swath of horizon

i wanted to know too


City (y)Awnings, and (fire) Escapes


when the city is holding its breath

as much as you are exhaling



Mayo, mustard, ketchup, and hamburger

patty, brick, concrete,  and awning


Lettuce for the fancy young building,

iceberg, because no nutrition.


I could say lines and angles,

about this corner.

I could say exposed brick,

dropped silk screen, private affairs tattooed

and shown.

I could say the city is tired, haggard

from recent stretching.


But instead I’m just left with this:

the block is a burger.