Poetry Blogs (americana)

Balancing my brains with bourbon in some back-ally Brooklyn bar
nighthawks that had lost hope looking for the diner, perched in a meticulous row like tin ducks on a crooked shooting gallery on Coney Island

The fella to my right was coyly flirting with a glass of miller draft, his hands embraced around but not to tight, so that it didn’t slip through his fingersas the love of a good woman once ...

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The Walkin’ Man

For Pete Seeger (May 3rd 1919 – January 27th 2014)

Serendipity Spangle was a walkin’ man -
of that, there is no doubt,
he walked across great continents
and was seen round here about.
With his low slung jeans and guitar,
he had no need for fancy suits,
he just roamed the great blue yonder
in his worn down cowboy boots .

Those who were there at his birth
cross their...

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