Seattle

  heard last night you coming in the door dropping armful bags around little white dogs barking incessant, you, open the window – breathing in the last of the day’s sun light shuffling over to the one you love saying “maybe we’ll go to Cuba” under the incessant barking dogs you say, tucking your feet…

Brooklyn

BY JOHN WIENERS And with great fear I inhabit the middle of the night What wrecks of the mind await me, what drugs to dull the senses, what little I have left, what more can be taken away?   The fear of travelling, of the future without hope or buoy. I must get away from this…

Brownsville

alone in a tiny restaurant the french waiter serves me a hot bowl of soup d’oignon.  “non” he answers blankly avoiding my eyes, he did not draw the large boat on the wall behind him, no, he does not look at those ships moored to the docks – the ones calling back (come back!) why labor so hard at moving so…