Matt Greenblatt Poems

Every morning wakes
With the flirtacious drip
Into the coffee pot
The hiss of steamed milk
...

Drowned in darkness, designed isolation
Icy knives assault my back
Descending to the iron floor
With a gentle pitter-pat
...

What a luxury it is to
Slip into the night
Away from your friends
At the bar, confident
...

St. Gabriel's Church this morning
Bustles with a life
That Istanbul's Bazaar
Never saw on its proudest day
...

Night and fog descend
About those peaceful eyes
Mind clouded, visage hidden
In merciless blindness
...

Cattle hide, buck skin
Leather has a nature
Such that, necessarily
To be of use
...

That day the summer sun
Was masked behind the clouds
Blown in by autumn's birthing wind
I saw a solitary crow
...

Wielded, metal fist of man
Punch the concrete bag
Until the pavement quakes
And stands then only as a powder
...

Death doesn't lay in wait
For bald men in cancer wards
No, I feel it in my fingers,
Covered in mustard sauce,
...

We have crushed
The flare for execution
Ground out the maddening
Passion that made a mother
...