Category: Poetry
4 Poems in Apocalips Publishing
Four poems from my upcoming manuscript Out of the Sky were published by Apocalips Publishing.
These poems are redactions of pages from Don DeLillo’s novel Falling Man.
I can’t wait for the whole manuscript to release next Friday. Here’s a sneak peek at the cover.
“Doors”
I wrote “Doors” about a recurring dream I used to have as a child where my brother and I were on vacation and got caught in a storm.
It starts with, “I had this dream where I was riding a motorcycle with my brother. Through a rainstorm.”
Find it on page 35 of Issue 13 from Riggwelter Press.
The First Breath You Take After You Give Up
Been a long time coming but here’s my most recent collection of poetry. I wrote these poems using only the song titles of different music albums. Each poem’s title is the same as the title of the album I used to create the poem’s text.
https://www.weaselpress.com/product-page/the-first-breath-you-take-after-you-give-up
New Book Released Today
Hello all, while it’s been awhile, I’m happy and proud to announce the release of my new, full-length collection the same that happened yesterday, out today from Weasel Press. I’d be honored if you considered purchasing a copy or spreading the word.
Enjoy!
In Another Life, Maybe
Hey everybody, I know it’s been a while since I posted last, but just wanted to spread the word about my new poetry chapbook, releasing today from Weasel Press!
You can buy it on Amazon or else through Weasel Press’s store.
Please consider buying a copy or buying some of the other great titles out from Weasel Press. Love you all. Thanks for reading my work.
where orange danced with red
the sea streamed from your hair
in my dream
as you rose from the ocean,
planting yourself on the beach
as if nothing in the entire
history of the world
had ever been planted
by cross-pollination
or wind
or a gardener’s steady hands;
your shaking head
shook pearly droplets
from your hair; I watched
them fall, each a kingdom
crushing and reforming,
both calm and panicky
until the droplets struck
the sand and relaxed
in the potential retirement
amongst children’s castles;
the waves crept up,
covering your prints
as they darkened sand
and formed barriers
near shells and driftwood
like aged sailors’ faces;
suddenly I wished I’d
taken all those classes
to know whether chiaroscuro
might be achieved among
the glancing rays of the sun
in the beyond where
orange danced with red
and only black felt abandoned
somewhere in the past.
balloon animals
releasing worries
like balloon animals
at a county fair in lazy August heat
I close my eyes against
a dark ceiling,
feeling the closeness
of a bed under blackness,
counting that when
I knock in the night
you will have opened
the door come morning.
bashful
the periwinkle blue sky
stood bashful, aloof,
shuffling its feet
while its hands became
metronomes drawn
across miles of wool;
all the while tree shadows
like fingers sporting stubble
fly fish across the frozen
yard of hushed snow,
tensed, waiting
for the sky to extend
a hand in welcome.
Letters
Dear Present Me,
You’ll be okay.
Sincerely,
Past Me.
P.S. (I understand)
Dear Future Me,
Please forgive and welcome me soon.
Sincerely,
Present Me
P.S. (Past Me says you will be stronger because of us)
Dear Present Me,
I am waiting, arms open.
Sincerely,
Future Me.
P.S. (I owe you guys everything)
Michael Prihoda 