Michael Pruchnicki

Chicken Feed - Poem by Michael Pruchnicki

eight weeks prospecting in Alaska
summer dust sits on a shelf
in garage out back
flecks of gold -
chicken feed
they call it

prospecters dig and hack
from rocky river bottoms
bits and pieces of soil
now the dust
sits in coffee cans

notebooks contain
figures of speech
hacked out of the imagination

chicken feed
they call it

I call it

Listen to this poem:

Comments about Chicken Feed by Michael Pruchnicki

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Friday, December 23, 2011

Poem Edited: Saturday, December 24, 2011

[Report Error]