Old Now – August Poem #14


To: Andrew Shattuck McBride

Old Now14._old_now

We’re all headed to the
bone yard.
Even then, marching
towards walkers,
wheel chairs and
oxygen tanks.
Now we see each
other once a year. The
kids say they need
to get us
together more often. “How strange
the boys all died.” you say.

Third Street – August Poem #8


Standing on your back

porch, waiting.

Waiting for you to

come home. you

were going to take

me over to see an apartment.

Some dude practicing

bad sax in the corner apartment.


wandering around.

Where are you?

Response by Jane Covernton

Sax in call and response

with wine bottles

clinking in the alley.

I took a photo of you

standing, waiting.

I was doing chores

out making calls,

getting wine for later,

writing poems.

I missed you.