Hotel

Boys and Kitten - Winslow Homer (1873)

Time to recount the sparrows of the air.

Seated alone on an elected stair,

I stare as they appear and disappear.

Tonight the deck supports tremendous quiet,

although the twilight is itself a riot.

I’m glad I’m staying here, not at the Hyatt.

My pen, eye, notes, watch, whiskey glass and hell

all hang together comfortably well.

Pain is my favorite resort hotel.

Philip is a poet and literary scholar, including Co-Editor-in-Chief at

FULCRUM: an annual of poetry and aesthetics. His latest collection of Pushkin translations, Star of Dazzling Ecstacy, can be found here.