Poetry Collection – from MICHAEL O’SHAUGHNESSY

Poems by Michael O’Shaughnessy

 

the weatherman

 

where is the future

that was promised for dinner?

 

where are the living structures,

the blue lights in the day?

 

our frankenstein future

 

the past is a cold front

 

i am the cold front

striking the hot future

 

 

No Sasquatch

 

california is empty tonight

i can’t tell the oranges from the satellites

the roof is coming down like the hand that needs your time

 

all the things we talk about

but have never seen

 

icebergs

pyramids

 

but we’ve seen the sun

 

how many billions of eyes have seen the sun

while the sasquatch remains elusive

 

there is no sasquatch, you say

 

yeah, I guess,

 

nor icebergs

pyramids

 

nor sun

 

 

Imprint

 

When you come of age in

a certain decade, there is

an imprint of those years

stamped upon you in

an invisible ink

later (and often) revealed in

the black light of your future.

 

 

monochrome

 

a splash

a swatch

of grey

 

a touch

a hint

of charcoal

 

a consideration

a possibility

of white

 

your life:

without color

with only

the signal

being fed

the responses supplied

before the interview

 

you are astoundingly boring.

you should be revered

for the zenith of your

blandness

 

but you’re lost

in the crowd

in the white noise

of the bulk

of culture

 

paul simon

mourns you

 

and that raises your profile

just

a

tinge.

 

 

not enough

 

20 lb sacks of rice

a pint and a half of blood

tell another story to keep them awake

sing another song to put them to sleep

 

5 gallon bottles of water

your marrow, your kidney

another cold rag for his forehead

another warm blanket for her bed

 

I step outside for a minute

hands on knees

think about how I used to hear

“ok, that’s enough”

 

I don’t hear enough of that

anymore.

***

IMG_0950

 Michael O’Shaughnessy co-edited a literary zine in the ’90s called Report to Hell. From 2007-2010, he and his wife wrote a gonzo cooking column called “In the Sellwood Kitchen” for a neighborhood newspaper in Portland, Oregon. He runs a semi-fictional net label called Sleeping Brothers Records, releasing lo- to mid-fi albums recorded over the last 30 years by a small circle of friends. He lives with his wife in Southern California. You can find him on Twitter at @mroshaugh.

*Featured photography from contributor Sara Codair — if I’m wrong, please e-mail me and correct me!*

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One Comment Add yours

  1. Linda Rowland-Buckley says:

    His poetry is thought provoking and lyrical. It touched on images and concepts that resonated that stayed with me. I would like to see more of it in your publication.

    Liked by 1 person

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