Tuesday, April 30, 2019


While it rains
and rains,
putting the alley sparrows

and the cardinal 
who sings 
in the park out of work,

I am grateful
to be employed at all—

let alone so gainfully
building a vast new city
of expressivity—

or at least 
a whole district
of rhetorical churches—

or at least a neat
row of simple
dwellings made of words—

or at least adequate shelving
in the dry narrow galley
kitchen of my mind

for those aforementioned 
birds to perch on.