I preferred Polliwog, even then, / squatting by the stream
No purpose to my days, I set small fires / to pass the time.
There it is / my wind in a room / smaller than old- / boy’s suit case
Shielded by rusted guardrails— / two lanes traffic-choked.
We met in a think tank. / It existed behind the firewall.
With yellowing newspapers on the porch. / A mailbox, overflowing.
I dwell in practicality, / ugly & unpraised.
a house shored up on the mud banks of the river / where all day the moon sleeps in the guestroom
During a pandemic / People take to / The typically / Deserted city / Sidewalks
Change your name / from Francesco to Frank
