Peter Jay Shippy Poems

I walk in the park
and select a maple leaf.

With my Sharpie I write:
...

The farmer sent his child
Deep into the orchard
...

The village used a bank
of flat-screen monitors
...

They say they found me in frozen foods, stretched out
in the cephalopod case, rowing the air
...

They told me, fetch the jawbreaker
They told me, take down the wash
They told me, any day now, any day
...

He leaned against the wall
And considered the shadows
Stippling the ground. Tree? Silo?
...

Seemed like a first-rate strategy, Your Honor,
A way for me to gift verse to the wee set
Or, if you like, a mode to re-modal raw
...

After his death he frittered
His being in Bangor watching
...

A night of freezing rain has turned the snow banks
into Eames, into molded plastic
...