by McKenzie | Nov 15, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
At first, there is nothing but the sound of breaking branches— until there is an engine, a dusty hearse, a line turning the corner, car after car, the police leading the way onto the Raccoon Lake [main exit], all accompanied by a flag, all too like a man burning...
by McKenzie | Nov 14, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
Your favorite mornings were when you turned off my skin— my hair became elongated fiber my eyes, melted and frozen, over and over. * It became this soft repetition— this event— of cars and medical wire, deer crossing the street with nowhere to go but...
by McKenzie | Nov 8, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
It’s winter—and we’re walking on a path where there used to be leaves. You point me in the direction of where the car ran off, right there, right behind a series of bushes that look like birds, the skeleton of a path left over beneath the trees. A...
by McKenzie | Nov 8, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
The gentle faces fall and collect, fall like deer into the field— over and over like soft moons. * You remember her skin and how it rang with moonlight. And though the moon may never sing, the image made sense— the way that shine seemed to quantify...
by McKenzie | Nov 7, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
The gentle faces fall and collect, fall like deer into the field— over and over like soft moons.
