The Park

I’m cold 


didn’t have breakfast

guess this is what happens when winter comes

this chilly bench

warmth fleeting in this lonely park

except for a father and his kid I guess

eh I don’t exist

to anyone

at least they’re having fun

It’s colder

I’m colder

sucking on this smoke to ward off frostbite

They’re leaving

she watches me

I guess I should smile

I’m still a person

I hope I am.


Philly Story #63

Herbert Holmes is


he heaves heavy bags of trash for food everyday

hunger scrambling across his tongue

less homes than people

houses hollow of happiness he hollers

he mumbles then

humbled and homely

his Heavenly father is the only one to visit him on the streets

huddled against high-rises,

underneath society’s hazy gaze

Maybe he hates or waits for

a harbinger of humanity

Herbert Holmes is hopeless

but no less than a man

so why do I hesitate,

feeling helpless