Poem: Ashcans on Horatio Street

Among the refuse and ash cans
and the girls hitching up their skirts
down along the walks of Horatio street
are the kids with dirt under their nails
trying to hustle for some mouthfuls
of stale bread from Vinnie’s place
shouting at smartly dressed passerby’s
walking speedily past towards Chelsea
with heads buried in newspapers

Poem: Howling

A howl in the night
Primal calls echo
Over I disturbed snow
As owl takes flight
To watch wide eyed
At dance of predator
And prey circling