Michael Witkowski Poems

Which harrow shark runs berserk at the sight
of oysters is a privileged question we shall not
bother to answer but where merry sounds blight
our souls, appear in mere bliss and disppear, lot by lot
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Cows moon on the feasty lush
under their feet silky strands
of earth's hair- punky green-
the Earth is a punk
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Pleasure is good to hand
Where pleasure grows
Night wil not exist-
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Oh pundit my pundits
In my dad’s despair
Where have you been?
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You can see what we have -Farm carts topple over in full ride.
Planes by men for men made -Here is the riddle- where did we
shoot this clip - France or Germany? If I am a TB patient, I am
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Stepping ahead to the entrance
of the place where i would soon
hit the keys-i noticed three persons
blocking the door - chatting away
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bonds entwined
between two poles:
a sad pole,
a mirthful pole
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I am learned
i recite Zeus
Agrippa, Homer
Anaximandros
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B would drive me home
i thought - so imagined him
and filled myself with fear
and awkward disincline
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You,
God Is With You
Heartmount
Afraid of caves
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