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Michael J. Wilson
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Poem : gonna go
gonna go           — gonna go for this — gonna hold the stick                     — carrot 'til it rots           hold the end of the branch — the end of the wick a candle over each eye snuff the lot — the instrument of good — pincers of domain and collapse...

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Poem: The space - of a letter
I wrote this for a friend who is hurting. It isn't going to help anyone but myself. The space – of a letter                The space – of a letter – the – void within the Q –                A soft rain – holds itself rocks itself – this is the thunder – pop...

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On the weight of a simple silhouette.

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Dust Jackets : Snowball's Chance
Snowball's Chance (2012 edition) Designed By: ??? Let's get the weird thing out of the way first. I don't know who designed this cover. Melville House has an in-house design team. As far as I know that team is Kelly Blair and Carol Hayes, but I can't find t...

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Poem-A-Day #365 : One Year
One Year Let the year — crack like an egg the yew of it drying out your mouth                     Spit                     if you can Amber if you can                     — There is a bird inside you it is flapping the cage apart

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Poem-A-Day #364 : Weird Sisters
Weird Sisters I dreamt about The Golden Girls singing the abused child they had taken in was soothed to rest and I awoke - In some television Miami a pastel universe expands quickly from Blanche's ranch house not a bang an immense zoom in Here is the univer...

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Poem-A-Day #363 : 36
36 6 years pass & you seem to remember the cake from the party There were faces then instead of paper bags thinking themselves into humanity At the corner of bakery & Waldorf School was the same feeling you always have about relationships What the fuck & th...

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Poem-A-Day #362 : Hearts Have A Way
Hearts Have A Way I beat forever my heart don't want to what of this house in my throat The sun beam broken on sea shine is the summer of things Cephalopod dreams and champagne wishes are sponges to the blood stains from the crime scene Dune this but forget...

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Poem-A-Day #361 : Recipe :
Recipe :           broken hand                     mill gris                sound of ball bearings catching      sleepwalking murderer Mix thoroughly :           until smooth                      poster paint                smell of egg      pours like dens...

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Poem-A-Day #360 : When I look up and try to speak the shifting world wakes me
When I look up and try to speak the shifting world wakes me At the table - in a field no a parking lot - two tables one crowded I tessellate leaves alone as they discuss - climbing Mt. Everest At least one - a man I wanted something of Desperately - The sec...
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