Issue
#4

July
2009

2 poems by John Dorsey

observations about different cities

i.

ray tells me that
wild irish rose makes
the best rollerskating wine

he learned that in
the rinks on cherry street
in toledo OH back
in the 50's
all
of those places are
long gone now he says
we
both let out a sigh

we used to put
up with people's shit
because we loved them
at least i always
thought that's what we
were fighting for
now it's about something
else
entirely he says
while sipping on a
lukewarm can
of colt 45

ii.

748 south 18th street: philadelphia
i lived there less
than 30 days the guy
next door to us
ran girls and his
own recording studio he
was always smiling had
a 1977 cadillac eldorado
parked next to the
curb with a sign
in the back reading "cool air"
doors wide open to passersby
his ladies spread out
in full view on
faded leather seats
it was august
sunny
outside
love was in
the air i had
been broke all summer
and went inside to
check under the couch
cushions for loose change

© John Dorsey

national hotel poem

i'd like to think
that jesse james slept here
that maybe his hopes and
dreams still do

taking their first awkward
dance steps
on the corner of prospect
in a beautiful ballet of bones
for all eternity

here i look up
at the sky thinking
about the stars we
count on and those
that seem to fade
like faceless pennies or
crumpled valentines that read
"love is a savage notion,
a found object"

from the window
i curse at the
wind find divinity inside
broken piano keys and take
comfort in the belief that
both arrowheads and bullets
seem to cast large shadows

i have never been
a fighter not with guns
blood or paper hearts

instead i fight sleep
and keep
secrets with canaries
filling rooms like this
with goodish intentions
and wait to see
if death will check out
before i do

© John Dorsey