Poetryzine Magazine presents the selected poems by the American poet Michael H. Brownstein
Choir
The fist of God slammed into the light gray drizzle cloud,
her blue-black arm exploded with wind, an avalanche of hail,
an earthquake of rain, and the valley of racists went black.
In every direction over the mountains, the sky was full of peace,
a perfect blue, but in the valley, a thickening blue black skin.
You do no know me, she ranted. What makes you the right choice,
the better ones? I created all of this including you Yes, it was I.
Now, she let out a cascade of vowels, look to the sky. That's my color.
But no one in the valley was paying attention. No one was listening.
Measurements and a meaning to life
I open the hood of my ancient truck,
pull out the broken tongue to check the transmission,
notice a pink violet glow at its end,
wipe it clean,
then replace it to see if the leak is still there.
Of course, it has to be.
Machinery does not often fix itself.
Today a soft glow is at its end,
like a shine of saliva.
I close the hood with a touch of gentry
remembering the time it closed to softly
and almost broke
and another time when it closed too hard
and almost broke.
The measurement for the transmission has value,
and I know the truck will last awhile longer
regardless of what my mechanic says.
Seasons a spearhead of limbs butterflies in blossom shingles of leaf an armada, fully dressed
* Michael H. Brownstein's latest volumes of poetry, A Slipknot to Somewhere Else (2018) and How Do We Create Love (2019) were both published by Cholla Needles Press.
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