2023, Days, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, psychogeography, the no-scape, waterfront, Working Class Literature

Day 165, 2023

The impatient fisherman and his wife abandoned their spot and gone home.

There’s too much symphony in the sounds of train whistles, passing shadows,
and interstate traffic to get lost in old radio show podcasts.

This 50-year-old skin doesn’t make me human.
I feel less by the day.

After shift, check for a tail growing in the shower and for the protuberance of sharp teeth

No one speaks of how alligators were born:
whether it is something in the air, in the wharf music, and the passing shades of junkies and mad men

making the old DNA reactivate on lone nights next to the river.

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2023, Haiku, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, river life, the no-scape, waterfront, Working Class Literature

smells like old rubber and poutine

in this hazy sunset
you can almost smell the fire
burning Nova Scotia

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2023, Days, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, river life, the no-scape, waterfront, Working Class Literature

Day 145, 2023

the swallows nesting under the stage
are early risers, the bastards. so cheerful
it seems that even the sunrise
arrives slower, hoping they’ve moved on
to post-breakfast nap

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