MIPOESIAS VOLUME 24, ISSUE 1 ~ JANUARY 2011 Ron Androla The Eyes In The Trees
To distinguish wood from bone a frightening spider Laces echoes with listening. Jaw, a chunk of baked Clay, teeth like a rain of stones, her hinge
Rust sanity. Sun dust, skin cells, plaster atoms, visual Memories of sand, immersed with the last years of Miles Davis. Her eyes slide into my eyes, elastic
Gamma. Beneath my skin cloth her ghosts Swim with breakable mermaid skeletons. Cars are painful, wailing walruses in gray light.
Necessity browns the crust, & the trees. Her Holy stare from hellish, spiritual Complications occurs after the brightest fire.
Ron Androla is the author of many out-of-print books & books few read. He lives with his wife, Ann, in Erie, Pennsylvania. His website is
pressurepress.ning.com where all sorts of strange, odd things occur deep underground.
www.mipoesias.com
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36