Michael K Gause





The Tomb of Frank O'hara


Pan did gather the reeds that day

but breathless booked a flight south to

preserve his desire see after you left

he never knew right from wrong

the castles


dimmed themselves on storied hillsides

in an energysaving measure of respect

Guido heard the boys cry HALT in unison and the ghost

of muggers began to


cry chrysanthemums in Central Park decided to lose their cherries

to old boring men the day you ended the beach

on a whim and though only the waves can reason the fate

they only practice screaming at the moon







Poetry in Autumn


Though imperceptible I know

The breeze draws the leaves

From branches and pinwheels

Them into the courtyard


Effect and cause you see

When the nights get longer from my workaday window

Leaves are the customers reflecting in chairs

The dozing origami between them


And this is poetry I say

To myself

A café empty of paying customers

Well lit in November