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Ode To Opening Day
romise smells like peanuts, ice in the urine trough, the citrus of halter tops and sunburned comrades clenching salted cylindrical meats. Today, Opening Day: An excuse to take the day off and not flock...
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Turbulence: A Poem For Derrick Rose
hicago’s skyscrapers colossus city blocks as the turbulent wind shears the gargoyles’ veneers. And each corner here is its own goddamn architecture: for bumping, for tearing, altering perspectives. And...
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Home Run Derby, A Poem
Much like most of life, to be enjoyed it must be muted. Best to enjoy the thronging, the boozing, the outmuscling and tearing at t-shirts with cuticles for the simplest of circles—silently. Like...
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October Vanishes: A Poem For The 2012 Chicago White Sox
To be proud and disappointed is to engineer the perfect sandwich only to lose it mid-mouth hoist to a swooping, munchies-plumed, toothpick-taloned eagle. A tiger sits inside a vending machine. The...
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Carlos Boozer The Poem
Spokesman for the bald-beard and perennial amnesty blunderbuss, your poem is consistent, without complaint, a completist for first quarter onslaughts, your face a calico that cannot breed. This poems...
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Once More, ChicagoSide’s Designated Poet Ushers In The National Pastime
EDITOR’S NOTE: This poem first ran in 2012, but since its goodness cannot be contained by once-only publishing rules, we bring it to you, today, 2013, again. And next year. And… romise smells like...
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SELL, SELL, SELL: A Poem For The Trade Deadline
Guns drawn at the commercial sporting goods outlet, jersey prices geronimo, not yet throwback, not yet radiant with irony, and in the condo towers masking tape covers family names. Chicago expunges...
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To Derrick Rose Upon Returning: A Poem
It’s an autumn with snow. Finally, people look up. Orange clouds like thin receipts demand the eyes’ signatures. And it’s cold and Chicago is looking forward to eating. What honor you’ve uncovered,...
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