Showing posts with label Michael Bagwell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Bagwell. Show all posts
Woundless Erosion
By Michael Bagwell
Woundless erosion, an acrid aftertaste
percolates the tongue.
A makerless watch, transient wingspan
digested by the undulating sea.
Snaggletooth, skylight knotting,
we have devoured the dog star.
Economic birthmarks step past
the raven. Unseen, they are headed
to the roadhouse. Caution.
their feet slip along the asphalt,
bare and bloodied.
Is it safe to wander so far from
their pigment? Unstep?
Their grandiose plans array in murkiness.
- - -
Michael Bagwell is a student at West Chester University where he is studying English and Philosophy. He has been previously published in Dark Sky Magazine, Short, Fast and Deadly, and Collective Fallout, among others.
By Michael Bagwell
Woundless erosion, an acrid aftertaste
percolates the tongue.
A makerless watch, transient wingspan
digested by the undulating sea.
Snaggletooth, skylight knotting,
we have devoured the dog star.
Economic birthmarks step past
the raven. Unseen, they are headed
to the roadhouse. Caution.
their feet slip along the asphalt,
bare and bloodied.
Is it safe to wander so far from
their pigment? Unstep?
Their grandiose plans array in murkiness.
- - -
Michael Bagwell is a student at West Chester University where he is studying English and Philosophy. He has been previously published in Dark Sky Magazine, Short, Fast and Deadly, and Collective Fallout, among others.
Traffic
By Michael Bagwell
I bit off the mirror of a passing car,
spit it back into the speeding traffic,
watched it tumble between tire and hood,
and left it for dead
These are the times
of yesteryear gone wrong,
of open mouths, teeth one third; yestertime,
the year to yester, nostalgia is dead.
The mirror bit off an ear of a passing me,
spit it back into the rushing crowd,
watched it tumble between face and boot,
and came back around for the other.
- - -
Michael Bagwell is a student at West Chester University where he is studying English and Philosophy. He has been previously published in Dark Sky Magazine, Short, Fast and Deadly, and Collective Fallout, among others.
By Michael Bagwell
I bit off the mirror of a passing car,
spit it back into the speeding traffic,
watched it tumble between tire and hood,
and left it for dead
These are the times
of yesteryear gone wrong,
of open mouths, teeth one third; yestertime,
the year to yester, nostalgia is dead.
The mirror bit off an ear of a passing me,
spit it back into the rushing crowd,
watched it tumble between face and boot,
and came back around for the other.
- - -
Michael Bagwell is a student at West Chester University where he is studying English and Philosophy. He has been previously published in Dark Sky Magazine, Short, Fast and Deadly, and Collective Fallout, among others.
