The City at 2AM

at last, the lashing rain abates
the howling wind creeps away
tail between its legs
and in the distance
a truck treads and parts slow
puddles in urban lullaby
windows fogged, and silent

2am

where has the wind gone?
all the voices have fallen silent
and the sky too bright
from below
to contemplate
the stars

Boat Rides

cars through
pools of rainwater
recall to mind, tides
against a dinghy

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Urban Sunrise

a reflection of sun off
the building across
the street
is my dawn
in the city

Rats with Wings

dusty, sooty denizens
take to a cramped sky
urban beauties
missed and vilified

Waiting to Cross

Patience abides on a sidewalk for a moment,
while redolent magnolia scents anticipate
another winding amble on summer-slicked avenues.

Where the Wildflowers Grow

I live where the wildflowers grow
Between the lots in two straight rows
Where an old truck used to bed and lay
Rumble-wake and leave for the day

I live where the paper boats sway
Along the oily slick of a heat-washed quay
Where traffic notices drift like orange preservers
Down the gutter beneath iron girders

My home is the home of robins and sparrows
Darting between the dark and narrow
Corners of scaffolds and geranium bowls
Scraping crumbs around human soles
Hurrying, here and there
Never quite slow or unaware
Of a grime-proud, asphalt-choked weed insistent
On making a beautiful life
Anywhere, persistent.

Nightscape

mournful saxophones
conjure
nighttime streets
cities wet after rain
and a pain that bruises
gently on touch

Eggs

At the supermart
A lack of organic eggs
Trucks entombed in snow

Snow Shutdown

Anticipating snowdrifts
The city deserts
Neon signs left unread