Michael Levell
Three Poems
Found Postcard
I am an American West
and at the end of this line
I will lose youloose you at the cliffs
where languages recede
only through participationis this no longer real
I wish you were here
sincerelyAdvanced Composition
even intelligent ape smash
how perfectly imaginedis made unreachable
among the peopling rockwhere every event enters
simmering magnetismonce upon a school desk
I becomeChamber of Harvest
he is Mexico ready for harp answers
carefully placed amongst possessionsthe sun, his face full of flowers sings bees
to the occasion of his partner, a gardenready to be taken, swept softly, upstaging
local festivities shook from her petaled-lipships ripe for odyssey, ceramic romantics
burn up the little river and make it rain
