Thursday, June 21, 2018


Summer by Frank Lobdell


Daylight strings in fissures of fear & joy

streetwalk settling
pushers pimps
cabbies thrifties
& other gone galaxies
subluxed from the source
in this concrete jungle
tumbleweed imagio
the warm blade of air
turning faces
meat in the windows
going fast and faster
so you find my ancient
in the aftermath
of dawn's chariots
one look at your domed eyes
and she disappears
—from what bus stop
bench or green plastic
fern was the oasis staggering
to greet you? I am hungry
for ink & eucalyptus. I turn
the other cheek & shadows dance.
I become adjacent & contaminated
with ecstasy.
If you must follow me,
follow g-d
all the way past 5th avenue
in rags of south & west
I will show you strange rhythms
of tears I will tell you the
mountain's eyes I will open
relic mirrors. There are voices
within every voice.
I'll let the sun
be another star. I'll
salute the black crows
twist last night's smoke
beg of the piano rain

- d.c. wojciech

Saturday, June 9, 2018

Loose gravel

The crack of road- as wind is let through,
        Hushed pebbles, sweating in
Patina heat. Mumbling of tire rut,
Of dead horse track. Under foot-
It snaps like dried husk.
My feet- trail sore - like whipped sands,
Mouthful of sky. Road made of clay-
Where grackles spit, sputter over loose feather- over cowhide
Over my sweat lifting like a mist-
As rock is smashed deeper into the earth.
-joseph delgado