Deserted Factories

Windows of deserted factories shimmer on a humid night in the parking lot lights as we stand absorbed in thought looking down the empty street. I am reluctant to break the long silence enclosing us. Sounds travel heavily through the thick moist air like the distant flapping of wings. Something invisible brushes against us. “Is […]

Like A 45 On 33

Only two days after Brian met her at a cocktail party, he walked out the front door of his home on Cape Cod, left it all behind: the ocean view, the bank account, the credit card, the mortgage, the car payments, the wife, the three kids, the kit, the caboodle. With nothing more than the […]

Yearning for homeland!

“Yearning for homeland!”, a poem by Marina Tsvetaeva, translated by Katherine Pisarro-Grant, as part of the 2106 Poetry Month special, with a photo by Philip Pocock.

Roof Dog, Ave. B, E. 4th & E. 5th St., 1981, photograph by Philip Pocock

Nowhere to Go

Nowhere to Go A paw emerged threatening my conscience Your scent eludes me. A needle punctures a tire A bomb explodes Scoring the walls. Roof Dog, Ave. B, E. 4th & E. 5th St., 1981, photograph by Philip Pocock -Maria Lisella

Shopping Bag Woman, E. 7th St. & 2nd Ave., 1982, photograph by Philip Pocock


MONKEYS ON CRESTON AVENUE The Bronx, 1985 B–short for Beatrice–was the last of the Irish living at 2208 Creston Avenue. When I moved there in ‘75 her older brother was staying with her after a stroke prevented him from walking without the aid of a wiry, wheeled contraption resembling a shopping cart. Across the street […]

Trio, E. 10th St. Ave. B & C, 1982, photograph by Philip Pocock

As The Insurance Dwindles

As The Insurance Dwindles In this house made of wood mother formulates ancestry cleans the fish and makes the rooms habitable despite the incessant drilling. As the insurance dwindles in each room an ornament rejoices, a call girl smoothes the upholstery and a judgment curses high and low. Each closet is filled with white mice […]

Ladies & Dog, Ave. C & E. 2nd St., 1983, photograph by Philip Pocock


Exiguity I never get mad, I get even — written in glitter on the broad back of a fat man’s blue jean jacket. Everything faded except the dust & grease. Grace being a monument not to survival, but to resignation of divinity. As words are yellow farts in the wind when rain is out to […]

Alfresco, E. 3rd St. & Ave. B, 1981, photograph by Philip Pocock

Moon Walk Blues

Moon Walk Blues I’m not following the moon The moon is following me I just want to go home My hands are closed Half clawed But not fisted For I’m not angry I pace up & down To see the secret of summer In the night air To satisfy my weariness Alfresco, E. 3rd St. […]

Nativity, 2nd Ave. East 2nd & 3rd St., 1984, photograph by Philip Pocock

Fuck Buddy

Fuck Buddy A fuck buddy will not respect your snot No strings attached is a precipitous fall A hook up can leave you reeling on the line That more enlightened age a filter on Instagram Don’t get me wrong I’m open to it But that also leaves me open For a stalker to target A […]