by McKenzie | Aug 6, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
There are men who choose to live without trees. You dreamt that scattered wheelbarrows covered the earth like stones, that flowers broke under the wind that dusted the water. You did not believe that your wife’s shadow looked like a tree against the sun – its wavering...
by McKenzie | Aug 3, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
There comes a time when the trees begin to trade places. A woman spirals through limbs, the nearby depths of a lake – You remember the day when you explained to her how you wanted to wait for a winter wedding – You dug up the charcoal of leftover flowers and leaves,...
by McKenzie | Jul 20, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
There are days when summer and winter seem to reverse – unwind the flowers. You close the door. Knock as though dead limbs and leftover pollen will answer. You wind your way through the orchard as if you were a ghost. Haunt the underside of trees, unwind their roots....
by McKenzie | Jul 20, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
Sinful. Your lack of poetry – You. Becoming hollow. I see it coming every Wednesday – you become something – like ancient ruins. like peach trees reflecting in your eyes. As though your skin swallowed sunrise and the stars as though you deserved...
by McKenzie | Jul 18, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
I remember how your hands were filled like small wheelbarrows, lacking their legs, lacking days, days filled with poems – * like the one where you find one of your manuscripts in the garbage – you look underneath a box of Krispy Kreme and there is a stack of your...
by McKenzie | Jun 20, 2011 | Blog, My Poems
“So go then,” she said, referring to the way the river was drained of water. Your front porch was filled with wind chimes, filling the corners of the deck, filling your house with hollow sounds. One day your belongings began to disappear. Windows opened – latch-less –...
