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Michael Rerick

This selection from “Light Interpretations” thinks through various connotations and combinations of “light” and “interpretation.” The poems seem to want to ask what light is, linguistically and visually, and how we can take it. So, light is shed and gathered. These poems are also in conversation with another poem series entitled “Dark Observations” that consider darker aspects of interpretation. 


from: Light Interpretations



character thieves hunch the jamb

overcoming the human heart a

moon cut hangs the city out line

a wheel and spoke collusion


the particle accelerator book by the red shirt is not particle acceleration science


dull, brutal greenway lawn drive

ways to box mind transistors bound

concrete hums wire and light


a yellow bag travels over a conveyer belt and through an x-ray




brown basil branches cannot

undead fallacious chaos and

desire perfumed with garlic


sweated asphalt heats waiting but music counters with timed tocks


building mishaps timber

a frame, a door consent

to unhinge splinters wrong


palo verde branches twisted into chicken wire wall an urban chicken coop


early sleeplessness glints bling

parking lot hubcaps like olive

leaves, a dirty glass aura grilled

with screens working a grip


one roach and an entire silverware drawer submerges in soapy water


lattice without a garden grows

eye holed, squared, cut, planed

where the sun metal half creeps


the broken desk drawer and drill conjure a magic Faust felt in his lab




thought folios gear Audubon Park

trees the receiver strings with photos


boxes and boxes full of hands and this box hides a hand saw blade


wire and clouds sky perches a

wealthy visit to grade the view

of low wall permits painted glass


a wag brightens the room, the street, the bus, the park, the store, the butts


empty triangles or rings shadow

hard in tipped aluminum walls


after living all day sleep chores thick blue blankets to task




saunter to strut aware or

sway with a slight stagger

no sashays but streaks

and swift strides the street


an artist transforms corners and floors into relaxing and sleeping spaces


pressure taunts rain out

together a wind tumbles

trash slashed en masse


in time, the front yard draws what plants and birds want together in the air


lies wash the mouth open

often warm and opportune


the corner bowling pin trophy won the night you whooshed the fire extinguisher


crowbar apartment mold

exposes terrible cackles

canned tones cornered

crossed in arms in chairs


grocery bags crinkle work and clink new bottles of oil


fuck guts motherfuck across

Mohave fuck fuck trucks

bad luck street light fucks


voices, the wood change dish, visits, swamp cooler warp, laundry—every new thing




stones irradiate carpenters

travel in hoopties swing

states built on crime rates


treasure of failed paintings, unused gifts, and rolled posters found not in a famous closet


water clean tiles soap

streaked with grout

meet a blade’s shine


buses, bicycles, and feet with an iPod soundtrack would make a most boring movie



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