rod blagojevich at the end of his run

listen to the poem HERE (from WBEZ\’s 848 on 12/8/11)


he runs south on a northbound one-way

right in the middle of Sacramento Ave.


he lives just to the east in Ravenswood Manor.

i live just to the west in Albany Park.


i am walking the dog.


we turn right (west) on Sunnyside

he is walking, now, back east.


he says hello and asks if the dog is friendly.

overly, i say. they bow to meet.


i ask how far he got today.

about six miles, he says.


my name is rod rod says

i’m kevin i say, and this is Brooklyn


the former governor of illinois who tried

to get paid to fill a senate seat, laughs.


it is near winter in the greatest city in the world

the air a right kind of cool, a still

the body can sweat and glide thru

the body alive, a part of

rather than apart from.

the body ventilates.

the body is brilliant.

                                  i live

down the street rod says


we banter about weather, running

you guys should come over, we’re neighbors


the invitation seems sincere

and desperate. i think

all politicians are sinister

self and wealth

in their crown

all the time.


the rod on tv is still

petting the dog.


i have not knocked

his door. but still see tv


trucks outside his home. i still

see lights on inside the beautiful

blonde brick on Sunnyside.


one night his wife opened the door

for a food delivery, Chinese. i think


i heard a horrible thunder

on another late night walk


a fight between a man and a woman

something horribly human


there is something horribly humbling

and idiotic about us, something


inept and embarrassed

a hand in the cookie jar


a craze of isolation

of lonely, the kind


desperation that allows

the fallen to invite a stranger


home. the hope for anyone

to see, the desire


everyday on the train

furious for another’s eyes


to rest on your body

breathing. to see you


in the streets. to hold you

in some fleeting embrace


until the end (until the end)

until the run


is over