The American Journal of Poetry
"Strong Rx Medicine"®

 

Daniel Liebert

The Decay of Touch

 

    A horse drinks from his own reflection, the veins of his

neck like a hard cock.  Spooked by flapping laundry he bolts,

and his absence hangs for a cake-like moment in the ambient

air and crumbles.  Laughing boys run past a statue; an iris be-

comes a thing of the mind, then dissipates. At twilight ice falling

in an ice machine wakes me still inside of you.

 

 

Daniel Liebert

Winter Drought

 

   He wants to have been wrong about everything, for if

his life were a misprision there might be hope.   A hard

land in a hard season; vines cling nakedly;  crows follow

a mare, pecking at her dung.   In his desk drawer, foreign

coins from a journey, grandma’s brooch without grandma.

Long after the festival, a few streamers hang out of reach.

 

 

Daniel Liebert

The Woman in the Fake Vermeer

 

   The woman in the fake Vermeer pretends to read the letter in

her badly painted hands. She is a half-made thing and the light

at her window, a coarse impasto.  The parts have failed the whole,

a life not unlike my own pastiche of prurient glances.  Twilight

makes of the nun and her valise a single clod that means as little

as possible to the eye: this her not inconsiderable art, her lean

subterfuge.

 

 

Daniel Liebert

The Good Men of Rock Creek Covenant

 

    The wind-stripped oaks on Rock Creek Ridge rise

basso profundo, erect and single, dying upwards into

the delta of their branchings,  fritter out in a vacancy

azured with distance.  The good men of Rock Creek

kneel on linoleum and speak in tongues; hearts

heavy in their chests like hard green fruit.

 

 

 

DANIEL LIEBERT,  a rather solitary 'dumpster diving book scout' is in his 60's and has been writing in every short form of expression including poems, aphorisms, haiku, prose poems greguerias,  and even stand-up comedy.  He enjoyed a weekly three-year stint on McSweeney's internet as The Verbal Cartoonist.

 

 

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