The Poetry of
Michael G. Khmelnitsky

This poem has appeared in the Spring 2018 (Volume 19) issue of The Liar zine.

the country runs its zoetrope
before me

cows and horses
horses and cows

(you need to be just far gone enough
to notice the second sky
and not drown


everything changes
but the river never changes

I put a flat palm to my head
and half expect to see myself

on the other side  the coast
is decidedly alien
but I can still see you


I can see you
can you see me?

there I am
surrounded by the white fluff

i note and catalogue
while contemplating
my own province or provenance


the city's scarred face
the trees' rabid cuneiform

eighteen geese
mill over the defilade

prepubescent girls
use whole chicken legs
to catch crabs


I once wrote about amber here
(i still don't know what exactly i meant

here I mired my shoes
photographing disaster

here I observed a homeless man  drunk
pissing in a brilliant arc