The Poetry of
Michael G. Khmelnitsky

I'm wiping my face
with french words:

j'avais faim
depuis vingt ans


transparent insertions
into the eye

tell me that sprezzatura
really does equal reckleſsneſse


the car accident
gives me time to think

as the tree wraps its trunk
around my neck


as the acorn
scorns the hog

i dream that you and I
have a child


and it is a bird
and it is good