Chapped and dry hands
Cold wind in the city nights
Moon laughs from above
Cold Wind, City Nights (a haiku)
city streets
Red Lights Glow (a poem)
Transit of my soul
From numbing place to place
Dark nights, howling winds
Rattling of a rib-cage window
Naked moon glares above
Skeletal grind and pain
A refrain from dream-cities
Nestled inside the house
Winter chill, freeze-agony
Red lights glow from
Street-corner temples
Listen to the wind
It never lies
(Photo by Brianna Santellan on Unsplash)
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Philly Skyline (a photo)
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Suffocation (a poem)
celestial bodies high up above
are partially hidden in this
light-polluted city where
we hear screams from
four-story buildings &
smell pulsing humanity,
seeping thru the walls
of our studio apartments –
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Grayish Light (a haiku)
Cold Wind (a haiku)
Cold wind blows in the
dark night, as trash cans tumble
in a lonely street
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Wandering Ghost (a 6-word story)
Parallel Parking Olympics (a poem)
If there was ever a Parallel Parking Olympics
it’d be in South Philly
cars jam into microscopic spots
enough to cause anxiety
but you, with your back-up camera
squeeze in like it’s no big deal
this shit is real!
parking spots are like gold
circle the block like a vulture
starving, on the prowl
maybe you’ll get lucky
find a spot front-and-center
(Photo by Cali Riffee on Unsplash)
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City of Dogs (a short story)
Cindy parked her work truck in the shade by a McDonald’s and took a big bite out of her Quarter Pounder. Her lunch breaks were always interrupted by phone calls — the endless calls from dispatchers. Today was no different.
When her phone rang, she turned down the Brad Paisely song on her radio.
“Hey, sunshine,” said Marcus, the dispatcher. “Feel like catching any more dogs today?”
It wasn’t the call Cindy wanted to get. But at least it wasn’t the call, the one she constantly feared getting.
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Infiltrating the Network (a poem)
Who is behind the curtain?
Is Portia a super-intelligent AI autocrat –
or is there a murkier figure behind her avatar
hidden in dank data centers of Techno-City?
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