City Poems by Joe Fiorito

Joe looks at the city with his sad, sharp eyes, looks at all of it, and sees the lonely, the homeless, the addicts, the outcasts, the joy and the deaths. He dips his pen in realism, the world as she is, and tells us in short sharp poems what it means to never turn away.

These are poems that bite and that care. Joe has added a few notes at the back of the book to help us with some unfamiliar street terms.

Parkdale Morning

I too sleep like that: on my side,
knees bent, head resting
on one arm.

Who bore him named him
Sultan - strength or power,
pearl of rulers -

And would have had him sleep
on silk, not in this park
on a bed of grass,

no wreathe of aromatic herbs
but cop tape for his ribbons,
red dew in his curls.