Poetry Blog by Jane Ozkowski
I want to tell you about the man standing
on the third floor fire escape, staring through
his round-rimmed glasses, through the window,
in at me.
I am waiting for him to jump.
What will his body be like after sliding
though through two floors of empty air?
Will they bury it or burn it? His cousins
driving all-night from Utah to watch it happen,
then all night h...
Saturday 4th October 2014 9:52 pm
The radio on your alarm switches on at 3am,
unbeckoned. The voice of a nighttime preacher
speaking forgiveness onto dead waves. It begins
in your dreams, and only later do you realize
his voice is not water spilling from a crack in a brick wall.
You bring your fingers to your face, listening
to the voice, which is not fire, telling you
you are loved by an empty sky. He...
Tuesday 10th June 2014 1:43 am
She ate sliced ham out of a zip-lock bag,
standing beside me on the subway platform
with her side-tilted hat showing she was
all spunk and all seriousness, making me
feel absurd to be holding these gladiolus
and heading to the far west side of the city
where my sweet friends with an Irish accent
had just had a baby removed.
This girl with her hat and her ham and I
Tuesday 27th May 2014 12:53 pm
Everything that will happen has already happened.
This rain is making the grass greener and
these diseased birds are eating the garbage
from the ground. God continues to text us
encouragement although standard messaging fees apply.
The streetlights will turn green even if
no one is there to drive away,
the bread will turn bad in the freezer
no matter how tightly you wrap it,
and I have...
Monday 19th May 2014 9:15 pm