She won't say that word.
Not anymore.
Glancing black-eyed vacant into empty rooms
she gets a dull flannel view of the city.
Look close now;
can almost smell their dreams
falling out of the clouds, landing like a
cat.
Flat on their feet and smiling.

Shots cough up the avenue.

Urban tuberculosis.
She has no idea how fast to hold her
children.
They're gone.

How quickly they learn to grab freedom
from a pipe.

She wakes from all night work,
eyes itching like wet paint.
Stumbling to the door,
she leaves a trail of crumbs for them
to find their way home.

One More Fix

On the days I sit by the window
I hear nothing.
Watching the strangers across the
street
hanging by pillars
standing in
perfect lines.
Waiting for the bus I am suspended
by this criminal air.

Nothing to do,
this city is
dry.

Go sell yourself on the next corner there are no vacancies here.

A Memory

Outside in purple marbled rain
the ghosts of modern city palaces
roam the streets.
Strange deserted doorways,
sympathetic roadways

weave their way towards me;
me...in my solitary confinement.

At the foot of benevolent mountains
the lost sounds of almost forgotten songs
drip from the sky,
slow silk.
Becomes a bandage for my weary eyes.

Somewhere my impatience runs wild,
tethered once to your locked doors.
Now; There's nothing left but the dried flowers
pressed between the pages of
an old book of poems

Overdose

The brief corridor she walked
was a comfortable disaster.
It breathed heaviness onto her skin,
tugged patiently at her future.

She holds a handful of rain,
a surprised look on her face.
Closing her eyes,
she dreams of darkness.

Copyright © 2000 by Alex Stolis

About the Poet

Alex Stolis was born and raised in Duluth, Minnesota. He spent 4 years attending the University of Minnesota with the intention of going on to law school. Instead he fell into the hospitality industry. He spent 20 years there, the last 10 as a Food & Beverage Director for major hotel chains. He quit this career in 1998 to go back to school, not for law, but addiction counseling. He has no formal education in writing poetry except life. At fifteen he was introduced to Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Jim Carroll, T.S. Eliot, among others, introducing him to the world and life of words. He took a ten year hiatus from writing to live the life of some of his literary heroes; he began writing again in the fall of 1999. Alex has been published both on-line & in print including Stirring: A Literary Collection, Morella, FZQ, Miller's Pond, Voyage (UK), Unwound, Grey Book Press, Poetry Motel. He currently lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota with his wife, two children and two black Labs. He is thoroughly convinced he has been sentenced to live in the suburbs as penance for sins of his past life.

E-Mail: lexstolis@aol.com

Copyright © 2000-2001 by Denis M. Garrison.