Michael Daugherty

Two of my favourite poems from Michael Daugherty’s collection Lines from No-Man’s-Land. Read the whole thing if you can get hold of a copy!

Daugherty

ANYONE’S

In one room of a damned metropolis
a lonely madman works on a plan.

In an all-night corner coffee bar
a statistic prays for one last fix.

Under frozen branches in black park
pale fingers fumble with elastic.

Twelve inches away from the late-night news
a myopic spinster weeps in colour.

Someone somewhere begins a letter
to anyone’s silent son or daughter.

WHEAT FIELD WITH CROWS

(for Vincent and the too many others)

A grass track
leads nowhere

beneath a blue-black
sick summer

sky; crows attack
the eye, defy

all the slick
laws of probability;

angry wheat
writhes beneath

the breath of fate,
the mistral of truth:

clues to the paradox
of a waking dream,

the brushstrokes
of a scream.

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