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.
***
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!*
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.
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