Author Archives: Michael Graves

To deny your drinking is to speak of it, is To defend its bloodshot eyes, and purpled nose, And puffy face. So the contradictions come down to Denial, To assertion of the will To drink; For he who has pain Has alcohol to pour And to deny such truth is to deny Your life, Especially …

Continue reading “The Face of Denial”

The hairs upon my head stand up. They yank upright With silent, opened mouths, And I stand rooted to the drenching earth Beneath the close, mild moon, Wishing I could fly And that my face Could strike God dead. – Michael Graves

You tottered against my side In black fur ankle boots And sang: “O Lord, Won’t you buy me A Mercedes Benz.” As we crossed to the car Of a mutual friend I witnessed, half unwillingly, Your shining face, Your unbound hair, The metal belt around your hips, Your tiny lips, Your jeans, blue as the …

Continue reading “Your Gentle Gestures”

I have left my notebook behind me, again Pages of nakedness between bright covers. There are readers of minds, Subtle and powerful, Who control these corridors. And yet I have lasted five years. The numbers of the floors flash, And this dirty darkness Opens like a book. – Michael Graves

The World’s your enemy, you sigh. Against its stiffened prick, You, like a wildly rearing stallion, Kick. Although you call yourself corralled in it, I see you on your back, Victimious, Cradled in the lies that keep you sick. Sigh, kick. Your delusion’s walls are thick. Your persecutors powerful and Psychic.

We love your vicious wit, But your reflecting mirror shades Make us wonder and afraid. – Michael Graves