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 Apr 2015 Michael
Pearson Bolt
i found them
while i was
through old boxes
covered in dust
in the shadows
beneath my bed

i'd been searching for LPs
Lost in the Sound of
Separation on vinyl
its sentimental value
binding memories of
my favorite band
countless shows
a myriad of friends

it was there that i
found exactly what
it was i wasn't
looking for

who knows
maybe i hid them
because they
reminded me of things
best left forgotten

the blue sticky note
read in purple ink
"my favorite prints
for my favorite person.
thanks for believing
in my work."

in every photograph was a
little bit of you
dead friends
broken homes
dark rooms with
hardly any light
a child looking for love
the beach palms
skateboards and surfboards

in every photograph was a
little bit of you
shot in black
and white
refined in their
aesthetic but
only one photo actually
had you in it

three windows
light filtering through
closed blinds
an air vent in the bottom
right-hand corner

you stand in the center
and it is evident that
you are shirtless as you
look over your shoulder
at the camera suspended
in the room

what thoughts crossed your
mind when the shutter
shuddered shut

in every photograph was a
little bit of you
and if we’re being honest
there was a little of
me too
 Apr 2015 Michael
 Apr 2015 Michael
i'm getting tired of waiting on you.

and i'm starting to think
that you're getting tired, too.
do you remember when we were more than this?
 Apr 2015 Michael
we were born for greatness.

let us ride this out,
take this town for ourselves.
let us chain smoke on the rooftops
and drink in the alleys.

let us shout the iliad
at the top of our lungs
to those who will not listen
and those who will not care.

let us travel the globe
in the name of life.
let us dance in korea, brazil, italy,
and return better than before.

let us learn of language,
of the universe inside us,
of people long dead
and of people still living.

we were born for greatness.
let us be great.
on being more
I know you are a great poet
I know I know I know I know
I go look for the ones who didn't know it
I go I go I go I go

I see you can write in any form
I see I see I see I see
a form is a sight that's normal to the norm
I'm free I'm free I'm free I'm free
he tried all his life for the best credit rating
he died the day he reached his goal
there are no bill collectors in heaven waiting
they're all waiting down below

he arrived in hell and the devil was grinning
satan was smiling from ear to ear
"why did you take me, I was winning?"
"your credit is no good here"
 Apr 2015 Michael
 Apr 2015 Michael
i’m about to retire
and i will surely miss
the blackboard
and the chalk,

the faces
and the eyes
and the hands
and the voices

of my students
who always talk
about the latest trends
in twitters and facebook

while my mouth bubbles
with poetry and revolution.
 Apr 2015 Michael
Mike Essig
~ for William Carlos Williams

The perfection of that
******* red wheel barrow
that caused such grief;
those ****** white chickens
that brought no relief.
How many readers foundered
upon these images?
How many would be poets
took to truck driving
and went completely daft?
   - mce
The hardest poem I ever had to teach: William's, Red Wheelbarrow.
 Apr 2015 Michael
Mike Essig
 Apr 2015 Michael
Mike Essig
If luck falters
and I am taken tonight,
at least I will go knowing
I was never
another man's meal.

   -  mce
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