Michael Joseph Ferguson Poems

There's a stone
in my pocket

and a storm
...

The final approach is most important

the seconds before skin meets brass
...

the licking and lapping of a pomegranate -
a crimson yearning for the condensation
of the morning dew
...

Bounding through time
like a bumper car
Towards the next act
in my Houdini show
...

She stood
just outside
of view
...

rest a while

some strange new dance
is coming to you
...

home, 

a tribal remedy

  beat

   stone
...
        

        

            
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no one ever taught me to stop

it was always about the movement
...

she lives in a magazine, full time

just adjacent to the impulse buys at the front counter
...

Ca-tung... Ca-tung...

the slip of rain across the bent corrugated metal rooftop of the shed
...