Wordsworth in Poughkeepsie

By MACEO J. WHITAKER 

Expostulate up! up! Route 9, Will.
Ignore the totality of immortality.
Drink up this anti-pastoral.
Hail the Just-a-Buck and Minnow Motors.
Praise the bifurcation of river + city.
Honor the grit, the skylight plywood,
The attic rats and wall roaches.
Greet the vagrant dwellers walking
Route(s) 44/55, forked, joint, forked.
View the ruined cottage; beware
The toughs in Mansion Square Park
Who’d rough you up and snatch your dough—
These kids a clique of Ixions: no xenia.
Steal knickknacks from pawn shops.
Write rent-party verse in sleet dirt.
Cheer the ex-boxer jabbing alley air
While blocking his pebbled face. Look:
Scars + pocks + snarls + rocks.
Run the steps and stage at the Bardavon.
Sidestep the gypsy pigeons on the Amtrak
Tracks. Eat from the tomato patch
In the 10×20 yard. Dance to the music:
Buckethead’s cuckoo clocks of hell,
Robert Johnson’s hellhound blues,
Phife buggin’ from a tricked-out Audi.
And in the distance, techno.
Smoke the pop og; pass the god bud.
Smell the glorious chicken. Flip
Slick condom wrappers. Watch
Tall men heave half-court shots. Then,
When spent, climb the walkway high
Above the Hudson—Pete’s river— +
Inhale the beauteous forms and bridges.
Fill lined paper with the breathings, Words-
Worth, of your bruised old heart. Let it leap.

 

Maceo J. Whitaker lived in the New York City neighborhoods of Hell’s Kitchen and Long Island City before moving upriver to the thriving arts community of Beacon, NY. He has new poems forthcoming in North American Review, Juked, PANK, The Pinch, Poetry Magazine, and The Florida Review.

[Click here to purchase your copy of Issue 08]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Wordsworth in Poughkeepsie

Related Posts

A window on the side of a white building in Temple, New Hampshire

Dispatches from Søgne, Ditmas Park, and Temple

JULIA TORO
Sitting around the white painted wood and metal table / that hosted the best dinners of my childhood / my uncle is sharing / his many theories of the world / the complexities of his thoughts are / reserved for Norwegian, with some words here and there / to keep his English-speaking audience engaged

November 2025 Poetry Feature: My Wallonia: Welcoming Dylan Carpenter

DYLAN CARPENTER
I have heard the symptoms play upon world’s corroded lyre, / Pictured my Wallonia and seen the waterfall afire. // I have seen us pitifully surrender, one by one, the Wish, / Frowning at a technocrat who stammers—Hör auf, ich warne dich! // Footless footmen, goatless goatherds, songless sirens, to the last, Privately remark—