Jason Irwin: Landscape
See the men break through the early morning mistlike phantoms from a dream; their hat brims
pulled low, shirt sleeves rolled above elbows,
boots caked with last week’s mud.
Kristofer Collins: A Poem for Michael Wurster
The only connection I felt to the mills
was to the children of a generation of flayed men
on unemployment, the storefronts boarded…
Kristofer Collins: This Vicious Year
The common belief is the universe
is cold and empty and this speck of dust
is the only game in town. And what have we done
with this mathematically improbable honor?
Kristofer Collins: Burning
for Margaret Bashaar You are reciting poems as the Braddock Avenue trees litter pink buds all over, or perhaps you are dreaming. These million floating poems carry your full … Continue reading
Kristofer Collins: Never Let Go
for Frank O’Hara Amazing how tired I am, 3pm a Thursday. People keep talking to me unsolicited, and the bar across the street is owned by a republican draft … Continue reading
Kristofer Collins: Asylum
for Kenneth Patchen When the sky opens up I hurry for the bus shelter hoping for some kind of asylum. I’ve nowhere to be and today I just want … Continue reading
Kristofer Collins: An Old Man Poem
for Bill Gainer You said to get in touch should I ever need an old man to do the heavy lifting, if I ever found myself in foreign jungles … Continue reading
Kristofer Collins: Almond Way
for Scott Silsbe We made heroic work of a few six packs while warm breezes skirted through the screen door and pushed salt crystals and breakfast crumbs around your kitchen … Continue reading
Kristofer Collins: Acts of Contrition
for Jason Irwin The bell tower burned down the same year my father busted his right wrist chasing a wobbly foul ball right off the garage roof near Butler and … Continue reading
