Morgan Michaels

Clouds under heaven fly
Winds over meadow hie
Through kept field and forest wild
Rambles my motherless child.
...

Consider this marvel of Renaissance wit:
The Ideal City, by Lucian Laurana-
See how the canny master contrived in it
To lead the eye along the polished piazza
...

The shade of a bird
flew through my head
and like a needle
pulling thread
...

-You knew her?

-Yes, we had lunch several times, and then, later, at the club....
...

Your grip upon the silken cord grows weak
you pluck them something now like zither strings
It must be strange with no employ of wings
to hang between the moon and quiet lake.
...

Like a land-locked sea, slowly drying up
from the edges in, till just
a splash of its former self-your long dead relations
the island survivors you knew them-
...

It was like in Cinderella-
A bag-lady became a fairy godmother
A yellow cab became a white, stretch limo
A diet Coke became a champagne split
...

Once I lived with Yin
Nights, we sat by lamplight
waiting for the commercial breaks on TV
Her freshly pressed dress brushed my knee.
...

...

...

Truth isn't sold
in the press or on-line
it can't be invented
or altered to suit.
...

...

'First the pulley. With these window-washers haul
themselves up to the tip-top or drop'.
'Yes', she said, with minimal interest. 'Next'.
...

...

I wish I were young again
with lotteries to win
when it was always Spring
and I could smell the exhaust
...

It wasn't that he didn't have
clear feelings on the score
but just before the vote, he rose,
turned, left, and quietly shutting the door
...

This morning
on the train
a mouth so
troublingly wide
...

Then the phone rings- 'no data':
into the grinning barracuda over the range
tessled onto plaster from bits of glass
and given me by Jorge, my exile friend,
...

Tokyo toyota
mitsubishi kyoto
teriyake sake.
...

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