yearly rituals Oct. 9, 2023


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Poetry Journal Dec. 17, 2023

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    She's out there somewhere, stalking me like she did when we first met, her indominable spirit carrying on despite all that she had gone through, all the dreamed forced to give up, all those lost souls she's needed to abandon in order to keep herself a live, a stranger who is not a stranger. I know as much about her as I know about myself, except for how she ticks -- after all this time and all I've read, all she has revealed, I still can't get inside her skin, in that shell she lives in this time after having left so many other shells behind, the husks of those who professed to love her, maybe who still think they love her when the shell they so admire, so carve for is as empty as a gravestone -- only bones beneath. 2023 menu email to Al Sullivan
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Hawk over Hoboken Dec. 20, 2023

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    Supposedly, the hawk I saw perched above the 9th Street station of the Light Rail is a good omen, although with the trains running whacky, I didn’t think so at the time as I waited for five trains to pass the other way on the wrong track traveling south, before mine arrived. The Bible refers to the hawk as a sign of God’s power and authority, while for Native American it is a symbol of strength and protection, although had I see it in a dream, it might have been an ill omen. In Africa, the hawk is seen as a symbol of faith, and courage in fighting for a noble cause. The hawk sat in branches across the tracks from where I waited, in the trees that rose up the side of the Palisades so that people on that side of the track, protected by a roofed waiting area could not have seen the creature, but even those on my side of the track seemed not to notice, too busy glancing at their cell phones and getting steamed at the wait for our train. I have often seen hawks in t...
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