2 new poems from Michael Igoe: Effigies, Places of Inanimate Glass

Fevers of the Mind


I’m not wrong                                                                                                                                   for reinventing                                                                                                                                                         even reenacting.                                                                                                                                              Although a few words                                                                                                                                          are somehow maimed                                                                                                                                                                                                 bleeding in procession.                                                                                                                                                                                   Though I feign reverence                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       I find that I seek revenge,                                                                                                                                                      for making use of a word.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Sweeping gestures                                                                                                                                                                             that never permit                                                                                                                                                                                                                    form in real time,                                                                                                                                  norms in addition.                                                                                                                                                                       The words ghosted,                                                                                                                                                                solemn and curved

Places of Inanimate Glass

The window panes                                                                                                                                              always in shatters                                                                                                                                              from kinder tears.                                                                                                                                        In continued slips                                                                                                                                                                              one laid in wait                                                                                                                                    to witness echoes.                                                                                                                                Sovereign lotteries                                                                                                                                  absolves the player                                                                                                                                                                    of  the parallel self                                                                                                                                     Any number can win,                                                                                                                                              if lonely and stripped

Wolfpack Contributor: Michael IgoeNew poems from Michael IgoeRe-published poems by Michael IgoeA Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Michael Igoe

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