Flying Island

A Writer’s Lament, or Ten Years Among the Wordmongers                                                                                  - dedicated to David Shumate* and Tracy Mishkin** by Mac Greene         So, here I am, a word bumbler trying to transform into an emerging writer, crawling through the smashing surf onto one of the endless islands in the Archipelago Poetico. My Grand Canyon poem washes up in Hawaii. The zombie piece rots on Deadman’s Rock. Several haiku gardens blossom in Japonesia. I land a Christmas tree and a raft of ravens on Wilderness Isle, just as waves slam me down and pull me back to sea. My chapbook lights up the phosphorescentalgae, and then fizzles in the pounding waves. Drums and orators vociferate around all-night campfi...

25 th and Central by Mac Greene cracked concrete, broken glass, empty half-pint whisky bottles, McDonald’s litter, dog turds, a red condom with French ticklers, wads o’ foil, a crushed crack pipe here we find the unending search for transcendence:           whisky, the sacred fire;           cocaine, Freud’s magic key. we find evidence of           food, love, and man’s best friend. a waist high field of chicory grows over this abandoned lot flowers blazing blue in morning light. morning glories wrap the knobby stems. dandelions peep improbably from cracks. ants travel on their busy highways. bees buzz and flies inspect. starlings gossip. pigeons thrust out iridescent purple chests as they soar down to steal from house sparrows who find seeds to eat in all the grassy weeds. Bio: Mac Greene has been a Hoosier by choice fo...