The day was as short as
a Hemmingway sentence, which
(in itself) is a metaphor for life.
The day was short, and it was
a metaphor for life. The old —
the old man
knew that he was dead,
but the world did not accept it,
the people did not accept it.
And the ocean rolled its ‘r’s
as he sat at the bow,
raping the boat’s hull –
but together they lumbered on –
his love and he.
The day was short,
And it was a metaphor for his life.


Communist Cliché

Isolated by all but the sun
(the sun — who had no choice
but to wake up today),
poor slave to the lesser turnings —

Oh, to live in exile,
Where to sit down cross-legged
Is a rigmarole, and
to sculpt clouds is a full-time job.

No one has yet been able
To plow with the rhythm of winds.
No one has harvested
With refined grace —

But they could gently puff a cigar
to the changing moods
Of the temperamental moon.
They could watch their family grow
Holding hands
With time.

To else read that what you feel is wrong —
the newspaper deflowered a hope
So I’ll use this sheet to wrap
my son’s little straw hat
that he grew out
Of — to put it in storage, and hope
That the cynicism of the ink
Does not leak through. May it
Defend all men.

“Love happens in the street,
standing in the dust,”
where a single match can serve
as a spotlight —

We dance with enough love
to move the earth itself —
it’s so easy to fall in love
(and sometimes easier to fall out)

Magic happens in the basement,
without any light. And that’s
not a quote.


Michael T Smith

Michael T Smith

Michael T. Smith is an Assistant Professor at the Polytechnic Institute at Purdue, where he received his PhD in English in May 2014.  He teaches cross-disciplinary courses that blend humanities with other areas. He has published over 30 poems in the last year in journals including Bitterzoet, Visitant, Tau Poetry Journal, Eunoia Review, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Bitchin Kitsch, and Taj Mahal Poetry Journal.  He also has critical work recently published in Symbolism and Cinematic.