Poems By Benjamin Nardolilli




Looking at 432 Park Avenue from 139th Street


The ideology of a clear day: stoop, peasants stoop,

respect your elders and your in the know betters,

we are the height of it all, the summit and the pinnacle

rolled into one and stacked, floor upon floor,

we see farther than you all, so trust us

there is no better perspective, no better view waiting


The ideology of a rainy day: see? Nature's reign

is hollow, it washes off, no wind, no lightning,

no hail, no thunder, no hurricane can stop this tower,

we are more than just a landmark,

the land supports us, the air has to pass on by,

we are a permanent bolt, a constant jolt to your senses


The ideology of a cloudy day: we are the column

and the ladder, we support the heavens above

and we will connect you with our network of seraphim,

the invisible hand arranges us at night

so we may arrange all of you down below,

but don't think of a Babel of access, or we will collapse



The Gethsemane of Downtime


Looking over my want-ad rosaries,

It’s money well spent to use newspapers


Because the worlds of economics

And employment are mysteries


I run the details through my hands,

The experience, the compensation


The ink rubs off and the letters

Appear pressed on the flesh


Another miracle! I tell myself,

This might be the one to apply to


And maybe now I’ll understand

The invisible hand, and what it wants



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