31 Poems by Dean YoungIlluminatrix by Alexis OrgeraSecret Damage by Russell DillonFalse Soup by Melissa BarrettLast Ride by Abraham SmithThe Lost Notebooks of Juan Sweeney translated by Chad SweeneyRanges II by Michael SchiavoThe Dark is Here by Kiki PetrosinoTouch Monkey by Stuart DischellThe Dept. of Ephebic Dreamery by Darcie Dennigan I Feel YES by Nick Sturm PATRIOT by Laurie Saurborn Young
 

 

Cover image: Ranges II - by Michael Schiavo

Ranges II
by Michael Schiavo

36 pages, soft cover,
stapled

$5 (First Class postage paid)

SOLD OUT



ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael Schiavo author photo
Michael Schiavo lives in Vermont. The Unruly Servant resides at michaelschiavo.blogspot.com.

 

from Ranges II

GLAD IN FULL MOON AMONG PUSSY WILLOWS I SWAMP


Troy—you up-and-comer—collecting
acoustical data off the Leeward Islands
hot hand runs the dark half-white
joy tingling fingertips I so miss your
mascarpone mindset. Flags of azure
rest ready in the ruined astronomy
where together we whorled. A man with
one leg’s got to have a sense of humor
in the discotheque jumping Jehoshaphat.
You too have left the war to your children
who while hammering the gambling
hall invented a new way to walk
it talk it move right along riddim.
What hath the official mascot of South
Dakota State University wrought early
we are received in that arbor with a banging
light & mechanical paucity. I love you
whose name I don’t can’t pronounce
as I dig the shepherd’s pie morning
organ plays “The Theme from Cleopatra Jones.”
I could go for a New Haven slice sure
but one thing’s good as another.
The boom of a neoteric galleon strikes
from out the fog too foggy lately reminds
folks of the Wethersfield Red Lobster summer
menu. Spooky swashbucklers raid
my mind of bad cobra touching
& am mazed in the curl swirl mist hair
across the bed meadow grow muscatels.
Swan come down forever more less simple
simple when you come. Begone you
major cronyism when the credits end.
Everything you do you’re supposed to
even in time of grand calamity forgotten
valentine waterspout what you want most is
to not be alone one more day. Aroma of exurbs
sprawling ebbs the downtown away from what
Dr. Kellogg deemed upright. Uptight
after midnight well alright fairie sprite
my outtasite dynamite. Good enough a little
longer ’fore the whole thing shuffles.
Hens & wolves & butter on the walls.
Yesterday I ate you out you moaned on
on on about the tiny man in your
grandma’s mansion somewise I failed
to free your leap. I ask you not Helen
how you could make me sail all this way
for to die in sight of the wide water
that would will take me home.