We Are Rabbits

Three rabbits in our front yard.

One is so close I see his eyes move.
He is wary of my intentions.

In a world of unmistakable violence
he has a bite of lawn to eat.

Two ears twitch, turning toward
the most relevant information,

cats and cars, hysterical dogs.
His life turns on a blade of grass.

A dodging streak of white
who disappears into a garden

four doors down.

Miser Magazine

I've got 2 new poems in this cool art and lit zine. Pick up a copy of Miser Magazine at bookstores and music shops around Cleveland. Check them out on Facebook. Support what they do.

Nostradamus 1993

Under a bridge span in summer night
we pulled at cigarettes, and discussed
factories in the distance puffing
3rd shift smoke over Black River.

"Soon enough there'll be nobody
in those factories," you said.
The damp earth smelled vaguely
industrial. It still does.



photo by James Jablonski 3.2013