Michael T. Young: Two Poems
we never see that ball of light cradled
in their green palms
April 27, 2024 · 14 Comments
Michael T. Young: How to Survive the End of the World
these strangers random as bits of sea glass
collected and admired
September 13, 2023 · 10 Comments
Michael T. Young: To Fly
Maybe it’s a vision so clear the dark can’t darken it,
and the mountainous range of roadblocks
and barricades can’t dim the image of it. It’s fixed
and steady. An unchanging map in our blood
March 15, 2022 · Leave a comment
Michael T. Young: Reflections on Richard Hugo’s Poetry
I believed the necessity
of that suffering world, hoping it would learn not to do
it again. But I was young. The world never learns.
November 19, 2021 · 9 Comments
Michael T. Young: Dutch Hex Signs
They spoke a language that smelled of horsehair
and tasted of apple butter and red beet eggs
June 4, 2021 · 6 Comments