Genius follows a crooked road,
Talent a crooked script—
Only in the viewing is
The cliché assuaged—
The fangs of Nosferatu
Insured for double indemnity.

When you see Mike—Mazurki,
That is, you know you’re
In the right film—face like
a bucket of mud—
Fists like sledgehammers
Waking the dead and deadening
The watchers of the dead of night.

Bumper bullets and blue dahlias
Slinking forth from the gloom—
Cigarettes twirled about in
Gestures of insouciance—

Taking a wrong turn
Down Scarlet Street
Desperate to get out of the past—
To find the spot where
The sidewalk ends.


Jesse Mcknight writes poetry.