2 poems from Michael Igoe – September 2022

from pixabay.com

Boundary Waters

Beyond the Pale                                                                                                                                      no one goes,                                                                                                                                  within or without.                                                                                                                                                  Here it's important                                                                                                                                              in sleep consistent                                                                                                                                            without  presence                                                                                                                                         of a towering idol.                                                                                                                                              The trestles of  viaducts,                                                                                                                                     shelter for working men.                                                                                                                                 Rock salt covers                                                                                                                                                      calloused hands.                                                                                                                                                       As for myself, I require,                                                                                                                                        the birth of every desire.                                                                                                                       Palm print saying                                                                                                                                               I need to wrestle                                                                                                                                                   with all the trees.       

Remittance Man

He plants the rough kiss                                                                                                                                    on the left of her cheek.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       It brings to mind                                                                                                                                         a former motive                                                                                                                               and base moves.                                                                                                                                                                        She gauges intentions                                                                                                                                  out of a pale archway,                                                                                                                                  by her sleight of hand.                                                                                                                                  It's understood                                                                                                                                       why he continues.                                                                                                                                              In the arched smile,                                                                                                                                  warming a window.                                                                                                                                        It’s a great day                                                                                                                                          in the morning.                                                                                                                                       Neither knew                                                                                                                                       she was equal,                                                                                                                                              to expanding sets                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 of mere explosion.                                                                                                                                                                       Of good luck aware,                                                                                                                                                         the washstand brings.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Where with mascara                                                                                                                                                                           her eyes are opened. 

A Super Deluxe Poetry Showcase for Michael Igoe (early-mid 2021)

Poetry by Michael Igoe: Chaser & In Garnet Light 

Last Frontier by Michael Igoe (Prose stories) Last Frontier

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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