Author: Justin Karcher

Justin Karcher is currently working from home. Since he is no longer spending time getting to and from work, he is finding some extra time to work on his poetry.

A crying Bills fan has gone viral, and I can’t stop thinking about it. The whole country, it seems, is laughing at us. Laughing at our latest misfortune. Another heartbreaking playoff loss to the Chiefs. Quite the turn of events, because like everyone in Buffalo, I was flying high on vibes the past couple months. What an improbable journey the Bills took to even get into this position. I sincerely thought it was our year. Mahomes wouldn’t win this time. I was wrong and it was, in fact, not our year. And I couldn’t quite figure out my feelings about…

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The entire history of unmitigated joy in Buffalo bouncing around in my head as we walk around Elmwood on the first fall day this summer. Gray families wearing cable knit sweaters tailgating in front of the Co-Op and talking about their favorite Sabres games: May Day, May Day. An overtime winner against the Bruins when I was too young to fully understand the magnitude of the moment. In our lives they don’t come around that much but when they do, we’re forever changed. A soundtrack on the top shelf where mama hides the cookies and whenever we need to make…

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On Friday, a lot of Buffalo was hypnotized by new Sabres goalie Devon Levi, especially how he meditates during TV timeouts, and after the game. and I think about this the next day inside the Supercuts on Delaware  everybody here staring out the window as the storm rolls in because of course it is, on the warmest day in months we’re not used to nice things here and when the cold rain falls  when the sun slips into a coma, we all fall silent  but don’t really want to, it’s called goo goo dolling it’s that thing when your insides…

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I’m on my West Side porch building a snowman trying to celebrate the Bills clinching the division but there are at least two confirmed deaths right now and probably more in the coming days so many without power, others stranded in vehicles on impassable roads, everybody stuck in the cold I’m also thinking about how this is my first Christmas without my dad, how his lungs walked off the job how my mom’s been crying reliving his death while listening to WBEN on the little red transistor radio because she heard this story about a guy with COPD trapped in…

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A cold December morning and when I go outside for a smoke, I can’t believe what’s happened: a security blanket covering all of Buffalo. You can’t see it, but you can feel it everywhere in your bones. What happens when there’s an angry pass rush and the pocket collapses and you throw up a prayer hoping someone will catch it. Mental health works the same way. Imagine a holiday fairytale about how we cry so much at night and because it’s the holiday season our tears turn into tiny shiny Christmas trees so when we wake up there’s a forest…

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It’s beautiful out, so I decide to go for a walk before the Bills game. A nice day to clear your head. I run into this older guy who is staring at the obtrusive fence on Allen. With a very confused twinkle in his eye, he asks me, “How do I get to the other side? I really need to get over there.” I calmly show him the path & he’s super grateful. I hope he finds what he’s looking for. Maybe a spot at the bar for our televised redemption. A few minutes later, this other guy asks me…

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I’ve started a new project: writing poems about interesting local/regional businesses. I think an important and yet underutilized function of art is to shed light on all the wonderful entrepreneurs and business owners we have in the region. A poem is an exercise in creative publicity, a small way to help keep a door open, because without these people and places, Western New York would be a lot less inspirational. Remember, we’re in this together. Located in Lancaster, I was blown away by LIlly Belle Meads when I stumbled upon it last month. Owned and operated by Patricia and Joe Marshall, Lilly…

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When the Bills lose against the Chiefs, I don’t even reach for the remote to turn off the TV, at this point in my life constant disappointment has blessed me with telekinesis I can move things with my broken heart, we all can in Buffalo, after the screen goes dark, I move through the house like a Victorian ghost, putting on my Jon Snow coat my snow boots and venture out into the night not quite single digits but it’s getting there in times of great collapse, I look for community the footprints in snow that lead you somewhere but…

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Buffalo Bills beat Baltimore Ravens advance to first AFC Championship game since 1993, reports of fireworks being set off across Western New York the sky blasted into tiny pieces the sea-creatures of the Southern Tier swimming to the surface after years of drowning and the oxygen tastes so, so good a necessary relief from all the disappointment we’ve experienced God, government, the gridiron it’s all been a mess a huge understatement, I know but they’re important, the little things that give us hope, and when Taron Johnson snatched that pick 6, it felt like a miracle like a dream where…

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It’s an hour before the first Bills game of the Covid season and I’m standing out on the back deck in the concussed sunlight using my iPhone camera to stare at my face and give myself a pep talk it’s okay to admit you’re desperate it comes in waves a beer-tsunami throwing lame ducks into your orbit you come back, you always do like a ghost haunting the realms of hope always on a scavenger hunt for that winning feeling I won’t deny who I am half my bones are already buried under New Era Field a sloppy collage of…

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