Tag: Peter Crowley poetry

Poetry

There has to be a better way to die by Peter Crowley

I. silver cells abound in glistening fieldthe body turns, a whooping crane listens.Fish beneath the shadowed surfacedart in seizure spasmsThe crane’s beak jabs into the water, lacerating gills II. hairless, mouth ajar, dark circles underneath the eyes,stomach in rebellion, T cells on strike. There has to be a better way to die listless, pallor, eyes fluttering, hallucinating,blind, cancer in recession, it doesn’t matter anymore. There … Continue reading There has to be a better way to die by Peter Crowley

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Poetry

Spring, 2020 by Peter Crowley

Spring raises its rabbit ears and goes blind.A blind beggar coughs lyrics through his shoesThe passerby winces, hugging the sidewalk’s edgeThe arm is the repository site for depositing coronaSide roads are golden, filtered fromthe many desolate people who choke up the bike path –side roads are the antithesis: post-nuclear Armageddon, noiseless vacancy, though, eerily, all the cars are home Spring raises its rabbit ears and goes … Continue reading Spring, 2020 by Peter Crowley

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Poetry

Mother Daughter Fight by Peter Crowley

Glass dives off table, marrying flesh Eyes widen, in shock and rage Then another glass, constructed in forgotten Chinese factory, is hurled from hand, from the same direction but toward the other end of the table. The two flying glasses’ trajectories made an X, each shattering after hitting wooden tabletop and splaying out shards which land on mosquito-flooded floor Afterwards, the daughter, temporally “home” from … Continue reading Mother Daughter Fight by Peter Crowley

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Poetry

Freedom’s Not Free by Peter Crowley

Independent Sunshine was stopped by the police Sunshine asks, “What’s the matter, you don’t like my freedom?” to a cop wearing a “freedom’s not free” hat The cop, timorously, albeit threateningly, waves an enormous American flag at Sunshine, as if scaring away foxes from the chicken coop When Sunshine remarked, “Thanks for reminding me what country we’re in!” it was promptly arrested for “violent” defamation … Continue reading Freedom’s Not Free by Peter Crowley

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Poetry

Lit Crit by Peter Crowley

Adjective, the writer’s sapphire though apostate to the editor, who conducts adjectival ethnic cleansing The air should be as it is. Not amorphous, pollen-replete, warming, hallucinogenic or stultified. The person shouldn’t be awe-inspiring, loquacious, demeaning, exploitative or a bore. They should simply fit into employment application checkboxes– gay or straight, black white or Hispanic. And they should probably have tattoos, use drugs or have interesting … Continue reading Lit Crit by Peter Crowley

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Poetry

Worker, Beg Not by Peter Crowley

Supplicated hands, extending the beggar waits forever From inside the glass office looking out, such is the natural state of things Make them wait, make them grovel, have them kiss your feet and one or two may be chosen to ascend from the paycheck-to-paycheck world to a place where one can buy a newer car, which doesn’t shake you to the core as it ambles … Continue reading Worker, Beg Not by Peter Crowley

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