Two poems // Michael Brownstein
SCRAPS: THREE DEAD MEN STANDING
the gray musk of cloud,
a cringe at the edge of blue,
green in this world exposes the green of this world:
cloud shelter: dragons of sky:
and the lake at the side of the factory a puddle,
the puddle in the farm field a lake,
the grass tundra sponge water logged and drowning--
everyone a shiny umbrella on their feet,
a collard green lining moving the day along,
a tick on a dick, stone in a bone.
WHEN THE DRAGON ROARS, WHY DO WE NO LISTEN?
What is it
--a week ago--
sleeping in the dragonfield mines?
:the breath of passion flower overhead
the jaws of the dandelion
the strength of blood tulips craning their stems through the shadow growth
How many times
--the first week in May--
slipping through the fired lisps of dragon teeth?
:a wealth in persimmon juice
a poverty of lilies of the mountain west of Maine
the drawback of the morning glory
Michael H. Brownstein work has appeared in The Café Review, American Letters and Commentary, Skidrow Penthouse, Meridian Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, The Pacific Review, poetrysuhighway.com and others. He has nine poetry chapbooks including A Period of Trees (Snark Press, 2004), Firestorm: A Rendering of Torah (Camel Saloon Press, 2012), and The Possibility of Sky and Hell (White Knuckle Press, 2013). He is the editor of First Poems from Viet Nam (2011).