May Poetry Showcase from Michael Igoe

Fevers of the Mind

Pitchman’s Breeze

Once the pitchman felt full awakened he felt the dread of resurrection as a shepherd . Milky blue lunches at bottoms of bags in curlicues of snow. Scraps of leather, in tarnished vats seem to wind up soles of his shoes. But plaguing him most was he could have sold though yes he did sell, electric barbed wire by the dozen yards. Without an inkling, of whoever he was looking forward, scouring the sky blue eyes fading.. The face of a man as a rhesus monkey; so timid and curious he tugs on my sleeve. For my own protection to become walled off I find myself walking across the sodden field. More what I wanted, anything of promise. Cleansing of the gut, is a panicked appeal for change of habitat to one that’s weakest. Likewise I am stripped, to jump in the fountain. I’m feeling even wiser, when…

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