by McKenzie | Jul 7, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
The low, chuffing calls of deer in the bog are like a man grinding his teeth, steadily into the face of a megaphone. The call of birds. A conversation, the garble. The suction and pop of a leg pulling up from the bog’s thick mouth. Upon close examination,...
by McKenzie | Jul 7, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
One afternoon I mistook a young swan, dipping his head, for a large turtle rolling over and over—water, sun, water, sun—and the sadness returned. My stomach, seeming at a distance, filled. I wonder now if this is how a mother feels when she loses a...
by McKenzie | Jul 7, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
At the restaurant, the ceiling tiles were white and sagging, weak-in-the-knees, Casablanca lilies. This was a place that should have taken him back to his childhood. A place for burial, a cremation. They arrived with a variety of meats, d’oeuvres, all the way...
by McKenzie | Jul 7, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
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by McKenzie | Jul 6, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
GUN CONTROL I want the swans back— the father’s wide beak, the wings spread and beating down into the water, telling the water to stay down, all before leading his wife and two young through the reeds and on to the other side of the Bay. (If I had known,...
by McKenzie | Jul 6, 2013 | Blog, My Poems
—A Misreading of Robert Creeley’s “For No Clear Reason”* I dreamt last night the fridge was over, that its...
