Wednesday, August 08, 2012

NEW! Poems by Michael Pagan

Michael Pagan

Two poems


I’ve seen myself backward— 
mouth hung open in a soundless 
moan; whatever it is that watches 
is not human

I awoke, slowly,
in stages, aware of nothing 

but, one, I was lying
on my back, and, two,
I felt terrible

That was the song
that was playing:
The Downside 
to Owning Your Own

If I could then just listen 
and watch,
and not say anything:

a figure in the rain
unable to fall—
I don’t really understand it because 
it was you that’s been stealing
the stars

My feet equal handsome,
and the gods spare no one—they

and the funny masks
they’d wear
What they don’t realize: everyone 
uses them 


We are cursed, cursed 
again like we’ve been, 

we’ll wind up dead this way, knowing 
very little, and that little fragment 
we’d get wrong, too—
always we are

tablescapes, we are, sat here 
and there, in better light;
a kind sea which lay above, 

and beneath

the spraypainted Peace Across 
A Stone, then tossed away
into a dried up riverbed,
to wait only for the rain,

with no red edges, a rain
of tenor, asking:
Are you finding 
what you’re looking for?
out here?
with me?

“But, you’re there and 
you’re busy,” I’d say, “and 
making my teeth
feel dry”

Then stay in the warm

“Then stay,” I’d answer

But, this conversation has lingered enough 

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