Poetry

"...Each one sounds more abusive than the one before..."

"...hidden treasures that I found..."

"...the uphill trudge that seemed to push through and past..."

Michael A. Griffith began writing poetry as he recovered from a life-changing injury. His poems, essays, and non-fiction articles have appeared in many print and online publications and anthologies. He resides and teaches near Princeton, NJ.

"...Store window displays staring back with vacant eyes..."

"...I am the fresh perfume Issued from cardamom thoughts..."

"...This day is not a holiday, this day is a vigil to mourn..."

"...I was there, but the trigger was not..."

"...They even do the work we do..."

"...gentrification took away the cheap beer..."

"...a constant reminder of nature's omnipotence..."

"...Lured by a neon kiss..."

"...I think it might disappear into the land of lost socks..."

"Like a mouldy ragdoll..."

"...When in hell we create the art that is to be our escape..."

"...Rusted Midwest soliloques..."

"...Galloping on the cloudy roads of the sky..."

"...Her head stuff, insulated with cotton candy dreams..."

"...the wall to wall bookcase that towered behind him..."

"...itemize flats on my floor..."

"...whatever you need to make your journey..."

"...Land. Legislation? Constitution? Consultations?.."

"...A blossoming of the wondrous exotic..."

"...unable to lift our eyes..."

"Everything is haunted here..."

"...The sequins are still blue..."

"...a season of dogs in the year of starvation..."

"...with eyes: half-inquiring, half-afraid..."

"...Soon there will be no more time..."

"...Grief and I have never quite seen eye to eye..."