The Poetry Project

Three Poems

Morgan Vo

air rifles

to commit a crime
ahead of dawnxxxxall crisis arrives

to say it’s no good
offer a plan to better outcome

the stars come together
to dangle strings and piecesxxxxthe needed
crumbs of breadxxxxto soothe longtime
xxhungerxxxxtooth waggle in the mouth

promise to keep healthy
hardyxxxxdedicated and well

butter and saltxxxxdark black leaves
flickering on the pan

xxhe takes stabs into silence
high dives to an empty pool
xxoceanic feeling forxxxxvolcanos of
xunwanted colorxxxxsteam pocketed
placed prominent in the mix

it looks like the mind traipses
easy when gazing at a vast sky
and it moves fast

but a knot is tiedxxxxtight on the money
this isn’t fight or flightxxxx but violet energy
staying vague

xxsimple syrup
poured into saucerxxxxcup becomes
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxa helmet for
xxxxxnoise picks up
xxxxxxanother storm

xxxxxxxxxair rifles wetlandsxxxxxopen
xxxxxxxxxxxfor another season

xxxseaside at heart again
where it keepsxxxxon fresh fish ice

time apart

time apart commands
in situxxxxso the
xxxxelephant may ride
pungent smoke
through a gate of
compacted leaves

fire lifts
soul off surround
into moist nostrilsxxxxxwet with gum
then up
a scabrous length of leather pipe
xxxcurled around my

spend the night in a hostel
searching haze
for a better way

makes a brick and mortar wall
placed a yard
ahead of

singing back at
golden blare
xxxat my ears
xxxxsmoke screen
xxxxxcouldn’t care
xxxxits hazy hat, settles down
the brow
the incline ofxxxash

xxxxxwe would have thunk
xxxxxxif it was in our power

time apart
a trek to empty pond

each pad lands with thump
xxxxxshakes the quiet camp
xxxxstaring back at
xxxxa shifting green brush
xxxxxa loose blue sky
xxpampered by flights of
flight for focus
a feeling, fossilized
and the future I miss

am I prey to the last?

look into its yellow eyesxxxlarge
supple with life

for the health of the species continues
despite a bad forecast
against ground
with terrible legsxxxxto deliver
the power of
the heavy grace

a window into the soul of grass
spoken fresh from an ancient dish
it worries me not to know

to not know
to sit at the trailhead, positionedxxxxto

covered in darkness
thorough as a broom

the dark ballroom
bush of fear

. . .

time is the wicked word
of the demon in power

lord wish you again would come
back again

we see sunrisexxxxxthe ocean groan
in its regular cornerxxxxxheavy with snow

jagged grey teeth and a mask
thick with red paint

can’t feel their fingers any longer
pressed against cold glass

each eye has everything to gain
by looking on, to not look away

immanence reveals night, and in it
the playxxxxxfirst notes touching other notes

coming close to the edge of a new city
the mayor waves backxxfor you to come in

down the line

with negroni chase negroni, we’d be other
than l’amourxxxxwe’d run doubled down
overxxxxxset aside

the average game is hard to watch
its total outcome never counts

would-be existencexxxxslips ‘neath decades-
laden guardrails, which
though lamexxxxshine brightly real

if light is piecemeal, may it
xxxxxxif these papers must dry then help
them unfurl completely

I see decision as the struggle, not pure

of peoplexxxxsingular distinct
those who make day and work
in each a separate space

Issue 14