the morning
sun cutting into
downtown–
garbage juice,
green but rainbow slick,
running through the cracked streets.
here are some things it has in it:
industrial soap, soaked rotten paper,
battery acid, coolant, anti-freeze,
fat, paint, human sweat, plastic sweat,
matches, ash, cigarettes, dasani,
spring fresh …

Stalking around my apartment one night and
enumerating the usual derangements, I decided
to take a bath.
From the tub, I thought about how
nothing fit into my place: the television
I kept on the fridge until I realized it …

one time, at the 96th St. 1 train stop,
I saw a man flick a bottle cap at a
rat on the tracks and seem to kill him dead.

Here in these dawning days of spring, one sometimes gets an itch to wander. Or to unwind reflecting on dark wintry days. So, blues poems for this week.
To start things off, Sonia Sanchez, with “Blues”:
“in …

Everyone likes Jose Martí. It’s taken me a long time to figure out why. You would think it would be easy, growing up in Miami, where you can find Martí tchotchkes, parks, monuments, etc., galore. …

Note: this post was meant for last week’s theme, and failed to go live due to technical difficulties.  Appended to the end is a poem selected for the current week’s theme.

Gramsci used this phrase to …