Michael DeNicola

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9 months ago
I will kill the cynic. The living-dead man of poetry A bastard son to emotion His calling card is “sadness” With a preference to the cliché A rotten corpse of art Turning back the pages. To which his ...
9 months ago
Today was to be the Jester's big day He knew his neck was in the noose because the gallows are where he’ll sway Her wish is to be entertained The Jester danced for days He plays the Violin Telling sto...
Long Island Express
9 months ago
Living on the Island I'm stranded on a cloud Sir Bently doesn't cry. Stepping to the precipice Peering down the down the cliff Peaking in my crows eye O'Hare sips a mai tai. My Nimbus scrapes a tower ...
9 months ago
The trees are bare this time of year On the porch, having a cigarette I could be drunk, the drink plays tricks The Earth is fake with its plastic grass A woman rushes to her car The moon has conquered...
Hand With a Missing Finger
9 months ago
How can we help? A hand for a hand. Can I hold your wallet in my pocket? Only for a moment. Really, how can we help? Coughing up the deluge, tie the rope up here. Something free for the moment, we're ...
9 months ago
Reflecting on the time in a mirror made of granite She pulls at her skin, trying to catch the worms A shelf of binding, twisting in the dust Waiting for an owl, a professor lost in time The mass candl...