Poems

Oakland: Every Day an Insult, 4/2025

I woke this morning.
Bird songs and fog,
Matteresses and mats of trash
In the morning light.

Then to my father.
Worn crutches and smiles,
Potholes and tattered people
At the busy corner.

Spent, I returned home.
School kids and laughter,
Wrecks and condon wrappers
By the bus stop.