Michael McCall Poems

Your hot breath on my chest
Congers images of burning flesh
Bends life through a prism
And cast nothing
...

I put ice in my scotch
there I said it
the guilt
not an abundance
...

Found an image of you in a book
books are for dogs
paper is for birds
i ripped the pages that came in contact with your image
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What ever this is, is blasphemy
the look of sin and deceit
so beautiful, but incomplete
A smear tactic used out of context
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It’s pretty clear at this point
That it doesn’t work
But I salvage TV’s
Tube type
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I wonder what's next
Disability or sex
Vexation or rest
Legs are spread
...

We are not all that common
We fall more and more
Failure is the only option
Placed before our eyes
...

You will know me by the company I keep
by my beats
by the rhythm in my feet
You will know me by the scars you see
...

oh what height have we reached
three fingers now
no ice
the steady burn of cheap whiskey
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i heard you were falling apart
casting your irons and stones
pulling and plucking your last string
breaking your windows
...