photo by marie c lecrivain
Miguel Eichelberger writes out of Vancouver, Canada with his authoress wife. He is a traveller, highwayman and untrained flautist. His poetry has appeared in literary magazines such as Vancouver Review, Existere, San Diego State University’s pacificREVIEW, Indiana University’s From The Well House, Joypuke and many others. His first play, Cave, was shortlisted for the 2015 Vancouver Fringe New Play Prize.
In morning’s textured dark
The maws of yawning crickets
Express the planet’s whispered melancholy.
Painting with a dawn brush
This un-still life.
A lock-jawed dumpster
Spouts the frustrated cackles
Of a soul thief.
October’s crow blusters
At discarded packaging, commercials, words
Written on fat-stained paper.
What’s left of a man approaches
And takes what the black messenger leaves behind.