Archive for ‘Matthew’

December 11, 2014

Amelia Loves The Way

by Matt Spence

Amelia loves the way
the sundial fetter struck
the herdsman
double space
sundog numbering
backfield decoder.

read more »

November 25, 2014

Poem # 57

by Matt Spence

I should have wings growing
out of my head for all the
Tuesdays I’ve been dead
wearing monocles that
mystify a necrotic
apprentice steep
stair playing, jerkily,
near blind, and
demurely I stare out.

read more »

November 17, 2014

The Train Sits in The Station

by Matt Spence

Time stuck in his
throat
these things never
happened.

read more »

November 7, 2014

Trading Zeros in The Dark

by Matt Spence

End of the day glass is what is made
From all the leftovers
Of a day of glass
Blowing- it usually takes the form
Of a swan, and these were usually
Given away at gas stations in the
Sixties- the old man at the antique junk
Shop taught me all this when I stopped in
To buy you an abstract piece
Of end of the day glass.

read more »

November 6, 2014

It Has Become Frequent

by Matt Spence

It has become frequent
it always was.
They live in an old
house in the
suburbs.

read more »

November 3, 2014

Heading

by Matt Spence

Opposite directions
reveal that I could
no longer be
counted on.

One will not
speak them.

read more »

November 1, 2014

The Trucks of Conscious Harmony

by Matt Spence

The how is
everywhere invisible-
the stillness-
I re-enter the
surf.

Utter incompetence
crowded my eyes-
I knew it-
secret bugle calls!
Oh the beat?

read more »

October 31, 2014

Old Movie Monsters & Me

by Matt Spence

Sometimes late at night
night when I drink
more than I should
and I’m racing with the headlights
and the moon. I feel just
like old Dracula did
crawling back to his tomb.
He wanted to escape the
morning light ’cause he knew
the sun would burn him up.

read more »

October 31, 2014

Halloween Remembered

by Matt Spence

Halloween
a small town
listening
lucky
of laughing
world fizzed over
every window

read more »

October 29, 2014

Dream Ancestors

by Matt Spence

What did you want
to say
to us?

Reverberating
at the end of the
magician’s long
white scarf.

read more »

Tags: ,
October 28, 2014

Thousands of Solitudes

by Matt Spence

With a strange exuberance
falling eyes ducked into a
serious redbrick saloon
dropped neons go
horizontal clinker.

read more »

October 28, 2014

Diamond Cutter Blues

by Matt Spence

Doubt he’ll be back soon
given the three in the a.m.
nothingness spin smoking
cigarettes and disillusioned
bartenders with bottles
waiting full of cheap
yellow gods, and strange
hotel garbage.

read more »