ISSN 1551-8086
return to home search for a contributing writer

seach for poems by title

archive of previous issues submissions information mailing list online store links to other interesting sites contact us  
  November 2013
volume 10 number 2
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  featured poets
  Rose Mary Boehm
  Merrill Cole
  t. joseph dunn
  Alex Johnson
  John MacKenna
  Robbi Nester
  David Scriven
  John W Sexton
  G. Murray Thomas
  toren wallace
  Alicia Winski
  mailing list
John MacKenna November 2013



art by paradoxius

    John MacKenna is the author of seventeen books - novels; short-story collections; memoir; biography and poetry. He is also a playwright. He lives in Ireland.




The wake of crows is there above me day on day,
in the high branches of morning,
sycamore and chestnut while they stand –
the same sad keeners who have creaked and carped
for centuries
without ever being tempted into song.
The weight of a world is on their wings,
their argument a great depression in the sky,
the irritable eyes, astute, stare down
or out
across the river to the mountains.
But this is where they live,
their nests a thickening in the arteries of trees,
their bitter conversations most raucous at this hour,
the short, sharp flights begin and end in clamour.

When the lingering dance of night commences,
they will fall into a silence that is nothing more
than the hushed rehearsal of tomorrow’s sad complaint.

copyright 2013 John MacKenna




Sometimes the world wobbles on its axis.
This is the way things work:
blackbird in careless flight;
wings in love with the welcoming wind;
her hymn the song of joy;
eyes fixed on flowering haw.
And then
a flounce of falling feathers;
unfinished song;
small precious heart
less than the weight of empty skin
and splintered bone.
Sometimes the world wobbles on its beautiful axis.

copyright 2013 John MacKenna