michael pacholski

michael pacholski Poems

I should write one more poem for April
and one more for the rain while there is still
something called rain
because it might vanish, the philosophers say,
...

I had a best friend once
and a wife
with beads and blue eyes
the shine on everything
...

I’m not sure why I comb my hair
the same way each time
adding two equal drops and a certain swoosh
of the palm of the hand to the side
...

Dear light I thank you
fluorescent provider for me and mine
Without you I could not walk
away from the hearts of others
...

I once made an apple pie from scratch
I browned the crust
added just a pinch of cinnamon
I even plucked the apples and sliced them
...

The louse can live its entire life
on the curve of a cat’s tail
boring tiny burrows
for homes and suburbs in the flesh
...

If everyone could cease
to see you at all
If everyone would suddenly refuse
the information of senses saying
...

The heart simply does
and “does” is the best word
for what cannot be explained or plotted
in a story or a graph
...

you unperson!
you unthing!
Would you simply vanish?
and would my heart cease
...

I wrote my own obituary just yesterday
as a matter of fact.
It was on a whim – a trifle
of my own invention
...

He said he wouldn’t
be coming home for dinner
tonight or tomorrow
or any other night.
...

Kill all gods by the fourth act.
Yes, yes you must,
by all means, show the guns
and lay out the plot as well.
...

Then hold off, I pray,
the hours of death and sleep.
Do not prickle me yet with the torment
of needing voices and sickness.
...

14.

There was something no poet could name for sure
no Shakespeare -
...

Oh I can cook up a poem,
but I'm hell with meatloaf.
...

My toes curl up
and my teeth grind a bit.
...

17.

Uterus first, then alphabet,
then shoes then tie then straight ahead
to a red light crawl.
Were you referring to me, Aunt Ella
...

So many chances, so many lost opportunities.
My hair cannot possibly get grayer, my fortune-lines sink lower, my love lines stop shorter.

At the end of the song I am whistling,
...

The Best Poem Of michael pacholski

Should Have

I should write one more poem for April
and one more for the rain while there is still
something called rain
because it might vanish, the philosophers say,
and there are no promises of more.
The month is almost done
another minute gone and spent.
Lately I have been dreaming
of everything I haven’t done yet -
hills not climbed and lovers not kissed
minds not probed and strangers left untended
and cold in their gray metal park beds

the sciences I do not know
people whose eyes I don’t meet and will never see
a hand not shaken is a remaining unease
a whole universe not exploded upon
no impact or tremor or insight

what have I done so far?
what of the sciences I have never known
where have I travelled by car or boat or train?
my report card is being shaken rather sternly
in front of me but I am only blind enough
to know that I am blind and can barely
see that I am flunking
and worse
the paper and ink are dry and cannot be changed
without being destroyed

the buzzing in my ears dies down
and when it does I will never be able
to hear that pitch again
soon the pitch will grow into a note
will become a song a sonata a symphony
crying away from me

there is a hole in my body I stare into
out of which my atoms silently flow
like water back into sky

michael pacholski Comments

Sue Ann Simar 18 May 2007

Your work has an exuberance that's engaging to the reader (me) .

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