james mcgonigal
Poet  •  Critic

Contact  James McGonigal

Click on the poem title to read the next excerpted poem from Cloud Pibroch.

            Time of Fever

That day the fever turned a Mondrian shade of blue
I thought they were selling the air above me
and wanted the sale to go through.

Green lights were shining in bushes where sparrows
switched on little torches of sound. Sweat’s coat
was buttoned at my throat.

We stood on a bridge. Still waters were balancing
their tray of moonlight where two stars
ice cubes in a glass.

And further on we passed an empty site
widening operations. Yellow rough cut stone
and sorry earth that was crushed and torn.