Adam Brodsky Cleveland Heights, OH poet

and though the live-oak glistens there in Louisiana,

solitary in a wide flat space,

uttering joyous leaves all its life without a friend a lover near,

I know very well I could not

Walt Whitman


Jim Lang and Ben Gulyas clear of sockets


Oh, Sunflower (for Lang)

Oh, sunflower–
socket clear & skeleton thick–
w/roots every which way
connecting it
across time
to loneliness…

Oh, beauty,
waiting perfect
in tin cans
we’ve come
to gently stew in…
the foto finish shows
you’re black & white,
a stalk in the night,
a glare,
a caption.

In twilight,
you stood alone
with it all running through,
a rail yard,
a bottle cap,
a memory,
a train.

Those shoes
were big enough for two
& two more.
You led the pack
putting familiars
the direction
your beard pointed.
A theme.

Even with strangers,
you were never alone,
On the bus.
Horsing around.
Trailing the tears.
Making moments.
lines of smoke
into clouds.
into a hat.
It was a party:
Lang gone wild.
A discussion.
Take your stalk & go.
Hoof it
back into family,
forward into history,
with a paper bag
of words
that stars fall out of
& dreams.
Look, there’s a penny.
No, it’s a dime.

June, moon, tune, croon,
Oh, sunflower.
Train, train, train.


Adam Brodsky is a poet, publisher and educator who performs guitar songs round the parts of Cleve.

Adam Brodsky Cleveland Hts., OH poet


(drawing by Bree 2014)


People, An Ode

People forget their place like spokes in a wheel.
People spin around themselves as if leaves discarded.
People bend their branches but do not break.
People drop their jaws & lose it.
People never think to pick up after their smiles.
People laugh &, in the process, double over.
People doublecross; then, no one is happy.
People hold out for happiness till they’re blue in the face.
People hold love like they hold their breath.
People want to unwind & breathe easy.
People fold in with moments like twisted braids.
People shave their heads & sit like statues.
People find themselves with stiff upper lips.
People take a stand without hair on their chest.
People give their consciousness a Brazilian.
People give their Brazilian a Buddha.
People think their Buddha is peaceful.
People want each piece of ass to be holy.
People make assholes of themselves.
People make masters out of the assholes.
People become brazen & camera-up when the law is wailing.
People take selfies to be their own poster children.
People ask, “Can I have a minute?”
People live lives like they had a moment to spare.
People make a good case for the morning after pill.
People come here after life & die to make it heaven.
People hit their knees & feel like hell.
People send history to the living postmarked from the dead.
People trademark graven images for advertising purposes.
People put their face on Facebook & their nose in the air.
People save face & bare their souls.
People have a soul book & a hymn book.
People sing from the blackness of the Bible which gives us the blues.
People seek a soul mate to face the music with.
People dance like it’s the “Song of Myself” that the radio’s playing.
People don’t play; they fight tooth & nail.

–Adam Brodsky


Adam Brodsky is a teacher, musician, poet and the editor of Ptrint and other presses. He is one of the finest designers of the very small press. He photographs performers, and plays with images to create abstracts. He lives in Cleveland Heights, OH.