The Ghost of Phil Ochs

 The Ghost of Phil Ochs

I think of Phil Ochs

staring down America 

holding a promise

it never kept 

I pick up a guitar 

I hear someone else  

into these chords 

as if they could help

how short is a lifespan 

what can be done with it

I’ve never felt god the cemetery didn’t help 

neither did the ritual trip and other circumstances 

when I play guitars when I sing to myself 

ghosts aren’t that far something tries to help 

new york city keeps changing

new york city might care 

rubbing money in faces 

a stranger hands me a kleenex 

feeling the world 

done up in plastic 

vomiting on the stairs 

keeping it moving with ourselves