Michael Joseph Ferguson Poems

There's a stone
in my pocket

and a storm
...

The final approach is most important

the seconds before skin meets brass
...

the licking and lapping of a pomegranate -
a crimson yearning for the condensation
of the morning dew
...

Bounding through time
like a bumper car
Towards the next act
in my Houdini show
...

rest a while

some strange new dance
is coming to you
...

She stood
just outside
of view
...

home, 

a tribal remedy

  beat

   stone
...
        

        

            
Read Poem 
        
    

Ca-tung... Ca-tung...

the slip of rain across the bent corrugated metal rooftop of the shed
...

my shadow's wake
plum and full with longing

and the silent moving meadows below indicate
...

still no consensus

 on the sound

  the frog made
...
        

        

            
Read Poem