Two Poems by Carl Kavaldo

palm tree



in del ray beach, florida,


i saw my first palm


tree. it had those funky


branches and leaves and it


was mighty alive to my imaginative eye.


i shared the house


with a man dying of despair.


the palm tree only inspired me


to write


poem after poem


and story after story


as i sat


at a small, white-topped, square




at sunrise


and wrote joyfully to greet it.


it greatly


treated me


to nice slices of my own mind.


the dying man


was the owner of the co-op


currently in a nursing home.


i was there to help and thought i


was a much better man than him.




i demeaned his depression.


i was that way.




the palm tree made


no judgment


but i didn’t


have its wisdom.


underground remnant



a junkie


stood like a wilted flower


on 7th avenue


between 5th and 6th streets in brooklyn


saturday, february 9,


   about 2 o’clock in the afternoon.


everybody was busy


looking at the sleek shops,


strolling along


  as they were,




not recognizing a


fallen angel,


a piece of new york’s




that’ll still


be around long after


these sleek remnants of parisian


fantasies and vanities


dry out, dry out,


fade and fold

    under new fickle ownership


and are gone.


Carl Kavadlo

Carl Kavaldo is a poet and short story writer.  He lives in Brooklyn, NY, with his wife.



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