Wednesday, August 14, 2019

The City Astronomer by James Steck


Elements are measured through light waves;
the spectrum of planets
exists in the colors we can’t see
reaching out to hold your lovers
wandering so casually through the night

through city streets
down 15th reflected
in the windows fogged by the morning.

Nothing sees them,
not the cherry blossoms, nor the monuments’
pale faces
not the damp grey joggers;
I look through the telescope
to see across the fabric of skyscrapers
wave after wave—
empty mouths.





James Steck grew up in upstate New York, and now lives in Washington, DC. He teaches high school English and coaches track and field in Fairfax, Virginia. He often draws in relation to his poetry. His writing is influenced by romanticism and realism while focusing on contradictions, the body, and everyday life. You can find his work in The Ugly Writers, The Woove, and The Silhouette Literary and Arts Magazine.



No comments:

Post a Comment

Gerringong Cemetery. By Michael R. Griffiths

There’s a certain nonsense that disturbs the dead.     As we pile in,     exiled past the ablution blocks,     roused by the warm s...