The Poetry Of...
Michael Rivet...........................................................................
My Own War
My own war
self built fox-hole
I dread the fight
exhilarate in battle
my comrades, my troops
training, parading,
resisting, counter -
attacking.
I drive home @ 85mph
radio blasting
fantasizing on going home -
my wife, kids, pool
warm reception
from the campaign.
We fight, scream
argue -
I can't wait
to re-enlist.
At least my chosen war
can be won.
Nothing is Found in the Night
Nothing is found in the night
I didn't create
Or bring with me.
Not as a child sneaking in the fields
Did more than night owls, crickets,
Or the wind
Stir my imagination -
Shadows create ballets
And the moon
Sketch the night sky,
Leaping across tiny waves
On the river
Like stepping stones.
As a young adult
Looking for the tryst
To satisfy the emptiness
I couldn't yet name,
Bicycling past cars
Whose destinations
Elude me still.
Tonight, back from work,
The breeze my companion,
I watch used woman
Smoking around a gang
Of motorcycles,
Couples depart a cheap restaurant,
And children
Meet on the street corner
Exchanging cigarettes.
Back home my cats congregate
At a screened window
Sniffing and staring
Into the night.
I bring nothing back
And I'll do it again
As soon as the need arises.
Doldrums of August
Doldrums of August have gripped
Putting even the air to sleep
Haze like gel in our hair
Sun a solid form, thorn in the sky,
Scaring the blue into submission
And the grass back into the ground
Sleep walk through the day
Sleep restless at night
Staring into cracked paint
Crickets call languid to each other
Not bothering to jump each blade of grass
Or traverse the steamy meadow
September is in the air coming on slow
A tortoise in running shoes.
