Following is my most-recently published poem. It appeared in the literary magazine Waymark.

The Devon

The cup dropped from
the machine and teetered
till the syrup and
the seltzer mixed
and the cowboys
came around the bend
again and again
rifles erect
Indians on the run

My chin on my knees
skinny arms lashed
eyes ever wide
two Saturday matinee features
broken only by coming attractions
that would have to be seen
the war movies the dramas
the beach blanket bingos

I emerged from the slanted foyer
to the blinding afternoon
unsure who I was
knowing only
I wouldn’t always have to return
to the kasha-scented Bronx building
I would live in California someday
in the wild fake sunlight
I would I would