Treasure Island

Morgan Michaels


Poems of Morgan Michaels

61. 164 11/4/2012
62. 165 11/6/2012
63. 166 11/6/2012
64. 167 11/5/2012
65. 168 11/5/2012
66. 170 11/8/2012
67. 171 11/8/2012
68. 172 11/8/2012
69. 173 11/10/2012
70. 174 11/10/2012
71. 175 11/11/2012
72. 176 11/11/2012
73. 177 11/11/2012
74. 178 11/11/2012
75. 179 11/11/2012
76. 18 8/29/2012
77. 180 11/11/2012
78. 181 11/11/2012
79. 182 11/11/2012
80. 183 11/15/2012

Uprisings

Up slides the blind and out of remotest heaven
from a perlmutter sky
falls the pure, the Brownian, upward drifting snow
casually but surely, in high-blown whorls;
on the rail has settled a bluish inch.
'It's cold', croaks the bird, on yellow, thin legs,

so I rise. Snow fills last years rifts and sifts
on sticks and galls and nodes of last years'

[Hata Bildir]