33rd street – sunrise in a small city

for coca-colas

ghostly eyes linger about posts
helicopters of human torso hover
immaculate hands rise skyward earthward
mouths shout bombs prayers hailing echowire
over bloody knees aching thighs tumbling
shoulders concrete into ribs frozen mud
unite us to bury
thunder galloping home

goal posts at sunrise — (texans became colts at memorial stadium in 1953 and champions on national tv in 1958)

pretty boy to loch raven

brook brown and rainbow trout bass and carp
rise shimmering to hatches in deep pools riffles and fast flows
of mayflies caddisflies midges stoneflies
nymphs pupa duns spinners
to grasshoppers beetles ants cicadas crickets inchworms moths
poor fliers swarms
shrimp scuds sowbugs crayfish
leeches
minnows bullheads sculpins
snails craneflies dragonflies damselflies
in eleven cubic feet per second of coldwater
through fields of corn and wheat
cathedrals of eastern hardwood and deposits of salt petre
tasters of our royal cup

lake montebello at sunrise — (in 1881 the city began consuming water from the gunpowder reserved at loch raven supplied to lake montebello on hillen and thirty-third streets)

our most sanguine expectations

a beautiful white villa in the glade on the hill
as symmetrical as mercantile interests and power
evaporates like conversations forgotten
and repeating

montebello at sunrise — (general samuel smith, of montebello near the alameda and 33rd streets, exercised power politics at the local, state, and national levels through the first four decades of the 19th century)