Vox Populi
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Mike James: Two Poems
Recollected From a Text by Vallejo
Always there is a leaving. A dark night
And a moon not bright enough to
Read a stranger’s glance.
Old mothers stand, cry at
Alley windows. Their tears last forever
And never fall from their face.
Shopkeepers whistle while they empty
Their shelves. And the darkness goes out beyond
The store front arrangements and the small,
Blue houses and the empty fields never fully lit.
Goes past the dirty, misnamed
River and those who sleep beneath the bridge
Who fumble to button and unbutton
Their one red shirt.
~
The Start of Winter
This seems to happen more and more.
There’s a man on the corner, beneath the streetlight.
He’s either laughing or sobbing
Into his long, dark coat.
The sounds are close to one another.
The news doesn’t mention such small occurrences.
Neighbors stay occupied with the lottery
And updates from other countries.
Even my wife tells me to keep to myself.
While almost every night, the wind rubs across
Old brick and stone
And, somehow, doesn’t make a spark.
Copyright 2023 Mike James
Mike James’s many poetry collections include Back Alley Saints at the Tiki Bar (Redhawk, 2023). He lives in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.
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Happy that you published Mike’s poems!!! ________________________________
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Yes, I’ve loved Mike’s poems for a long time.
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“While almost every night, the wind rubs across
Old brick and stone
And, somehow, doesn’t make a spark.”
Oh my. OH MY!
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Yes, isn’t he great?
>
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Its too much! James and Padua all to read in a single hour’s bidding. I’m now going to stalk off into excruciating beauty and rend some spider webs.
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Thanks, Sean. I agree. Reading Mike and Jose in one sitting is a fine surplus of passion and beauty. I thought I’d give our readers a break from politics today.
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