on crudos and kobe skewers and

                    charred octopus and foie and

           native heirloom corn foam

in vivid culinary hues

                           on this, clean beauties paw and jaw

                     aloud near patio servers

           scurrying between tables

under halogen street lights

“Heard you that shriek?” —

one piercing scream in the megalopolis

echoing through dingy tunnels,

off dive bars and soaring over cathedrals

and finally out into the distance, into the quiet

and the beauties sit there between

        courses, choosing themselves

               and that silence is swallowed whole

                        by ignorant arrogant chitter-chatter

under towering buildings held

          with the power of imagination

                    yellow street lights lights flicker

                           there is one less survivor tonight

Published in over 50 journals, and his poetry has appeared in various art installations.  His first poetry book is Poetry for the Neon Apocalypse, which was nominated for an Elgin award.  Host of The Outskirts Poetry Podcast.