Poetry Archives - Page 2 of 14 - Baltimore Post-Examiner

Brown

Leafless, grey, gnarled, they hibernate in the clays of the brown crag. Their red, yellow, orange gildings, two months

My kitchen is blessed with fruity scents of Ethiopian Oromia, the welcoming traces of Chinatown Coffee Company, that quick but

So you think our small town’s

so damn pretty

while you get on your soapbox

‘bout crime in the city.

U.S. troops liberated death camps

in the decade before my birth.

My parents didn’t use the word fascism.

But I knew what it meant.

Only two years before my birth,

Israel was declared a state.

A Chesterfield fast upon her lips (She’s almost Dorothy Parker) A whiskey neat at her fingertips (She’s almost Dorothy Parker)

Maybe the perfect world we seek Is not meant to be; Maybe the bliss of heaven Becomes hell for eternity;

Should I love my IED That goes off so suddenly Not hidden underneath, But for all to openly see?

Failure has taught me this: Nothing else matters, That if I could have a wish, I would binge watch Netflix

Sweet little salmon, so fast and so swift; She keeps up with the others so big and so strong. Swims

Sailing ahead, salt mists our sun kissed bodies as we rest on the bow of the boat Counting and observing