things i write when i should be teaching . . .

of bone & shell
wind & wave
love's soldiers lost
weeping scars forgave



tepid black night
in tenement backalleys
where neon shimmers
in the steam rising from gutters
like the breathe of some long-
dormant beast
asleep underfoot

footprints and laughter
the chorus of bottles
breaking and scattered
along all this cold, wet black
where forgotten children sleep
in the shadows of power
and the piss of drunks

yet above the walls of brick
and soot, beyond
the lidless quiet
eyes of glass
safe from the din of traffic
and ground-floor sin of men

a star shines

a light from another life
a light from another past
and green life bursts
from the long dormant seed