Michael Ashby Poems

Slipped into a solution of clear
and teary white,
those egg-soaked left-over waters.
It's a vessel or a test subject,
...

Your mother always worried
that you would die
in some tragic way.
That the universe waited
...

Hard hitting headlines,
all the girls went mad
for the stars and boys
for the money and drinks.
...

Each of the children
soiled and served
through mud and grass and blue bled sky.
Would you to like see the body?
...

Their minds were deflating
in some sort of vacuum we had found
somewhere between home and here.
The mice ran to the edge of the road to pick up the scattered remains
...