A long way from the Andes
the sound of a wooden flute
rides up the escalator
at Lexington Avenue.
Sudden as birds
two girls’ hands
break into conversation
across the car.
from AvenueFind more by Michael O’Brien at the library
Copyright © 2012 Michael O’Brien
Used with the permission of Flood Editions.
He sits on the floor of the
house he grew up in, talking on
the phone to his girl in the
city, telling her when he’ll be back,
that he wants to see her, that
he needs to. Gusts of seed-stuff
rush the window. He wakes, perplexed the
dream has not gone on. Maybe it
does, but this is where it leaves
him. This early morning light. Where it
goes on it is rebuilding his heart.
from To the RiverFind more by Michael O’Brien at the library
Copyright © Michael O’Brien
Used with the permission of Flood Editions.
He dreams he sits
in the kitchen of
the house he grew
up in, writing this
poem. Water is best
it says, and he
hesitates to change a word.
from AvenueFind more by Michael O_Brien at the library
Copyright © 2012 Michael O_Brien
Used with the permission of Flood Editions.
1
What can you say
to the dead? You
tell them what they’re
missing, which is life,
and what you’re missing,
which is them.
2
Nature Boy,
trombone, bass,
B’way-Lafayette station,
evening, winter.
Where you been
all this time?
from To the RiverFind more by Michael O’Brien at the library
Copyright © Michael O’Brien
Used with the permission of Flood Editions.
Sink if you must:
no one who doesn’t
know how to do it.
Turn the clock
sideways—the hours
come that way
anyhow—doze, listen
to the tick
dissolve in rain.
from To the RiverFind more by Michael O’Brien at the library
Copyright © Michael O’Brien
Used with the permission of Flood Editions.
Magnolia, gaudy
relative come to
visit who makes the
house seem small.
Beached dead tree,
stripped brain-fan of roots.
Consciousness, its
thousand errands.
from AvenueFind more by Michael O’Brien at the library
Copyright © 2012 Michael O’Brien
Used with the permission of Flood Editions.
She does the
laundry, it
takes a long
time and while
she does she
talks to her
mother on
the cellphone,
they argue,
later, on
the street she’s
still talking
to her, um-
bilical
thread of the
voice.
from AvenueFind more by Michael O_Brien at the library
Copyright © 2012 Michael O’Brien
Used with the permission of Flood Editions.
1
“crack life open”
the ad proposes
2
the Whitney Museum, “a
glittery emblem of
new urban capital”
3
the subway’s “passengers”
become “customers”
4
the deconsecrated
church becomes a
nightclub, a boutique,
a furniture store, a gym
5
the internet is the
software and the
gun is the hardware
6
the Festival features a
“poetry brothel”
7
“Margin,” we say.
“We have no margin.”
from To the RiverFind more by Michael O’Brien at the library
Copyright © Michael O’Brien
Used with the permission of Flood Editions.
