Michael C. Peterson Poems

For fury the Penitent may say, My Lord, if discretion
be the better part of valor then let me
be the screen door, and beyond it, the parade
...

So long on Tantrum now distinction suffers.
The winding of the wind, the drag
of sun against the puny fleet, and nothing
left to spare its use to you, Crusoe,
...

Something of occupation, something about
withdrawal. The lecturer said
that when the bevy wings or lands together—
...

When gluttony is less than ruinous we
give it milder claim. Never
was there enough of what we wanted.
We named this Comfort, we
...

One summer you suppose another summer
will be ransomed—at last—
the stark-rocking maple now willfully green,
the house like a boat like a house,
...

Vigilance go slowly, our ear so hard this
year to the rail. Bantam seed, who
nonetheless explodes from drink, suppose:
the high lake winters over. That
...

Repeater—
then you played the summer's
underwhelming passage, exactly,
yet so much left to perform, or to be poured
...

I tell you then, your master is never so far from
you, you never have to raise your
voice. It is right that you understand what
you are saying, it is good this doing
...

You didn't want to go to the sea, the base
nearby, its simple name, north-
something or something once exact, crackling
lately only as
...