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
...

Maybe we'll find it:

that one choice
...

home,
a tribal remedy
beat
stone
...

I drip like seeds
onto your fertile soil
splashing in patterns
of refined thought
...

I stood there
in the lobby
eyes bloodshot
...