Ready to explode 

Ferry avenue’s soft chaos 

On a warm October night
Lost young men ride motor bikes

And ATVS with deafening motors
Pulling 90 degree wheelies 

In the dead of the evening
Without t shirts some bearing

Teenage girls on their backs 
The young men ride fast thru red lights 

Swerve past waiting cars 
And ride perhaps until they’re out of gas

Some even without headlights 
And careen past playing children 

With paper thin bodies 
Ready to explode 

Above my head

Two sounds persist

This afternoon in Camden
One outside one in 

First the buzz of a helicopter’s

Blades a few hundred feet

Above my sad apartment building 
Second the constant tick

Of the clock a few feet

Above my head 

The most beautiful 

Modern poets think

Their feelings are superior 

To common folk
When the most common

Of humans find

The most beautiful situations

A Picture of a Renowned Poet

when the Pulitzer Prize 

winning poet paused

to take a sip

from his glass of water 

the old man struggled 

and the plastic black straw 

slid up his nose

and the wealthy white women

giggled mercilessly 

The Sound of Rape

Nix Angst! Yells the soldier / who just raped / my wife / in front of our baby / don’t fear! A pat on the shoulder / and an earnest smile / from a man no longer a man / Russki gut! He says / in broken German / I, a half Jew / have been forced / to trade one master for another / and the look on her face is like a shovel dug into my chest / don’t look / she had said / I couldn’t oblige / the wailing of our child / is a train coming to a sudden halt / of steel grinding against steel / of human beings robbing each other of humanity / it is the sound of rape / imprinted into paper skin / of a rose crushed into a book