Poetry – Year V – Number 41 – October 2020

Flower Girl (V2)  If you get a chance, please listen to Mp3 audio, poem song, Flower Girl (V2)-special. (Tears in Your Eyes) By Michael Lee Johnson Poems are hard to create they live, then die, walk alone in...

i carry this house with me / because in me is this house she wants horses, so young me carefully glides the marker across the ruler and builds four walls for the stable, an oval for the trough. she works...

GLASS DOORKNOB You with moist hands And heavy eyes, Reaching up for the glass knob Of a mirrored door. I was afraid it would break In your small hand.  My Hinged knees, Unsteady voice, hoarseness, Heartbeat:  struggling, Hammering even. Lateness of wisdom. But you were inside, Where...

I Am a Kite Soaring Above You I am a kite soaring above youas you play tag in your backyard.You run from a boyand hide behind a sycamore.As I drop closer to earthI crash into...

Sonnet CDLXII Deep velvet Azul of the Nile Steely skies rolling ridge wheel Gallivanting around as they kneel Meadow of murmuring water has a Crocodile As luck would have it a glass half full Oli covering old sloppy eyes Ell Solitaire...

all those times no one’s ever around “how can you breathe in here?” she once asked, curiously all the moments lasting an eternity at some other plane of existence countless empty bottles decorate an apartment soon to...

Backwards People say time is a circle or line, but really, it’s a Ray. It has one point fixed ages ago, and the rest shoots out like a line, Moving forward and forward for all of eternity....

The Couple Clouds tipping overhead Heavens spilling forth their bounty love and tenderness seeps into the ether the couple watch the air twirl their love into a cyclone towel wrapped ‘round their naked bodies sea water dripping from their enlaced fingers sand between their toes they lay together in love Explosive There’s a...

Temporal Lapse, Chestnut Street I move clay pots and watering cans, plant chamomile under cloudy first light, emerald clover velvety against shins. There’s a song in my head with no place to go; I hum notes in the rising...

frontier me, stochastic and riverine— a watershed body. beavers build temporary dams inside my large intestine. I am no agent. I am only acted upon. sometimes ecologists pry apart my arteries with latex hands, inspect my perpetual motion blood machine. inside brackish...