clouds
the binoculars
have gleaming
worlds.
the florid
answer promised
a loyal syndrome.
this is secret.
that’s all.
blank permission.
“aren’t they birds?”
“last time,
clouds.”
opening remark
blow a ritual
of some document.
today, a restraint
in discipline.
what’s prepared
to remain
in context
of language?
he executed
change in
facial
indentation
like an old,
mute version
of the opening
remark.
fist
this modest
program
of ice
following
the dead.
effort was
chaos, levitation
of voices
choking in shapes
of wrist,
the configuration
of pressure.
adjust into
a fist.
the rifle
the rifle
did not know the details.
what
was unbearable?
the rifle
recalled the anatomy of barrel, muzzle, blast.
the force
of death on the arc of a brave disease.
interference
history wants
to eat the armchair
the memory was
drifting smoke
God used to be
serious work
shallow beliefs
out of panic
because the world
is spreading,
no liberating or
casting out the innocent
strike this power
that interferes,
occupies
the carpet.
BIO
Michael Prihoda lives in central Indiana. He is the editor of After the Pause, an experimental literary magazine and small press. His work has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net Anthology. He is the author of eight poetry collections, most recently Years Without Room (Weasel Press, 2018).
|Contents|