3 new poems by Michael Igoe : “The Way of A Hero” “Tunnel Vision” & “Human Intervention”

The Way of A Hero

Certain castes tend to agree                                                                                                                     to own a certain anonymity.                                                                                                                     Though its lessons may sag                                                                                                                           it continues outlining plans.                                                                                                                                It no longer ages,                                                                                                                                               it plays all things                                                                                                                                                                         closer to the vest.                                                                                                                                                     Not extreme,                                                                                                                                            nor exuberant.                                                                                                                                They got that spirit                                                                                                                                                  of cautious departure                                                                                                                              from an ill lit corridor.    

Tunnel Vision 

Using glass eyes                                                                                                                                                    you fill the roles                                                                                                                                                                                             of  missing eyes.                                                                                                                                                                         Both will be judged                                                                                                                                                                                                           by rhythmic method                                                                                                                                                     in older swan songs.                                                                                                                                   Songs of Adam,                                                                                                                                           those from Eve.                                                                                                                                                                One precedes another                                                                                                                               in two separate gardens.                                                                                                                                  We made a decision                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     completely dead set                                                                                                                                               against their slander.    

Human Intervention

As you entered,                                                                                                                                       you were saying,                                                                                                                                      “We carry baggage                                                                                                                                                from the living years.”                                                                                                                                It’s the meaning                                                                                                                                                      of living in sin.                                                                                                                                                You know I am the one                                                                                                                                                                                             who gave you a cornet.                                                                                                                          But it’s been ages                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      since you played it.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  You stored in a crate                                                                                                                                       with the grease guns.                                                                                                                                                        Marked as property                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       of the Christ Child.                                                                                                                                          Its later posed in secret                                                                                                                                 alongside a steel guitar.         

  A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Michael Igoe 
          
 Bio: Michael Igoe, neurodiverse city boy, Chicago now Boston, recovery staff at Boston University Center For Psych Rehab. Many works appear in journals online and print. Recent: Spare Change News(Cambridge MA), thebluenib.com, minerallit.com. Avalanches In Poetry Anthology@amazon.com. National Library Of Poetry Editor's Choice For 1997. Twitter: MichaelIgoe5. poetryinmotion416254859.wordpress.com. Urban Realism, Surrealism. I like the Night.                                                              

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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