Half Drunk Muse Poetry


Blue Clocked Sun by Michael Ladanyi

for Vincent and the other dead

Vincent, you’ve said this skin is a death,
a bark storm bone-glue voodoo.
Would you fly against bone cratered moon,
away from field, crow, spider and poetry?

Would you sleep in turtle seas flight,
in finch shattered blue-clucked sun?
If it is a drowning crime to conceal
bird and blood, a crippled child
beneath crutching brick mortar,

would you reverse the burning mask,
paper mouthed black birds swimming
red to migraine-paint electric eyes?

And how would we fly? Naked and eating
green apple words on chipped horse sculptures,
riding thumb altered conversions of death?
Dangle-limbed through corpse orchards,
on glass edges of dancing dead night?

Then, I will fly, Vincent, as bird rain,
and remove the bloody cotton from your eyes.

View bio for Michael Ladanyi Published in Fall 2004

About HDM

Half Drunk Muse was one of the first poetry ezines. It was founded in 1999 and ceased publication in 2006.

Questions/comments? Email samiller@halfdrunkmuse.com.