Poems: Noah Falck

by / Jan. 26, 2017 11am EST

Noah Falck is a poet and education director at Just Buffalo Literary Center and will be reading in JBLC’s Studio Series on March 9 with Michael Kelleher and Rosa Alcalá at 7:30. 




Maybe it was you
with hair the color of
the first fire truck.
A smile unplugged
from within. Still it’s refreshing.
It’s toast. There’s scotch
in your eyes when you offer
more than water. Sometimes
truffles. Dear sir. Dear mam.
Tonight’s special is inspired
by how the harbor feels
at sunset. By the chamber
music of hand washing.
You like to think that even
the foul-mouthed women
are nothing more than trees
full of hungry pigeons.
You say, sometimes
dessert is the dream
and the leftovers, the leftovers
can open up a whole other world.





If you have ever used the word sinister

in a conversation about Saturday morning cartoons,


changed facial expressions more than twice

during an answering machine message,


turned into a werewolf at the sight of a Starbucks café,


driven through an entire state with your left turn signal on,


aimlessly pioneered across uncharted dance floors,


or tried to rewrite the Bible with the characters of Happy Days

then we should exchange phone numbers.