Michael Witkowski Poems

trample on my feet
you will never lace my mind
with your own silverspoon
...

Trees lie in bed
Their bark swollen
With mooshrooms fed
On sap- sap blows oop bark
...

Your pension and nuisance
Weighs an admittance
Perchance
In in every high billow of magic
...

He sends rockets to the sky
he is a spy
a perfect glance
increasses your winning chance
...

You rest in my tomb- I
Turn my face to you- Eat
Your bleached bony cheeks
With my empty black eye
...

Inside the thrush lily grows
I am milliner
I bud in yoou
Inside is a whisper
...

Wavy ripples unsettled
the table mirror- lake
joyous cry and avid breath
soak the mirror's soft empire
...

Grass as untried as on our last minute notice
Eviction at the door
Storm troops carry heavy prisoner uniformed baldaquins
For our merry bed but we feel the bones
...

Brief child, sing a lullaby to me
make it curt and brief
'cause i stand honesty not
...

wealthy above nations
played in the gardens
of those who bred him
but a sudden strike
...