Lights are out,
the storm trapped inside my head,
reports of fallen trees
in Rocky River,
meatloaf still in the oven.
     It doesn’t mean a thing…

meaning it’s July already,
shirt off, front door open
and I hear a crazy woman yelling,
“All men are dogs.”
I want to take her hand
and place it over my heart,
say something that would
help her.
But the world is so big
that we drown in its
I watch the distant fires
and already feel
the kiss of their burning.

Vladimir Swirynsky started
writing at the age of 45 after
spending two weeks at Mardi Gras.
He has published 15 books along
with two spoken word CDs. He won
the grand prize in the Case Western
Reserve University, Baker-Nord
Center for the Humanities
poetry contest.

Art: Keith Garrow
by Vladimir Swirynsky