An Autumn Road

Mark Morgan's Poetry Blog. Mark is a Detroit native, teacher, and poet.  His work has been featured in The Rising Phoenix Review and in ARTIFEX Literary Magazine.  All written works featured on An Autumn Road are licensed under a Creative Commons...

[anautumnroad]

dishwater sunshine poured over empty backyards spills on naked streets

[anautumnroad]

New Awakening

green flames flicker, stretched toward blue, softened, yawning oaths from thawing beds

-Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

awake I lie silence tells all -Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Evening Stroll

street lamps streak heavy fog and blind the passersby shambling through mud puddles toward the church

-Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Good Night

“goodnight” your voice whispers beyond my bedroom door. mine echoes through the empty house “good night” -Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Accident

bloody baby teeth glitter on crumbled concrete beside broken glass

-Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

my dreams pried at my lips, but then she raised her brow.  “Who are you again?” -Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Spring Flood

earthworms stretch and writhe in ruts dug by work boots and flooded with rain -Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Gypsy Moth

my mind spins silken thoughts-- when will I break away from the branch and devour each leaf whole and grow wings to drum against the surface of a makeshift moon? -Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Death

soft earth swallows rain with gaping black yawns before night frost splits my ear

-Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Happy New Year, everyone!

[anautumnroad]

The First Snow

The first snow of the season is so fresh, soft, and white.   I want to hold and taste it but my skin and breath boil with a promise of genocide that whitewashes my eyes and the sun and the finches fluttering at a feeder over a pile of dead leaves.

Flesh alive, crackling, brittle, wet, spectral, swept starving through the jagged whispers of winter air, chokes blood, quakes in step with the early dusk to the escape of cloud-kissed wisps of blue and pink, screaming, streaking through a sprinkler and into memory's vapored embrace.

-Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Autumn Sky

hard winds red leaves fly toward the sun

-Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Just, truly beautiful writing.

Thank you so much!

[anautumnroad]

Watcher

long-necked bird lost in skies smudged deep grey, please tell me your name -Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Ebb

close away cold water washes my feet as a broken clam shell digs my left sole

-Mark Morgan

[anautumnroad]

Beach House

summer wind strokes an old man’s calloused hands-- rose quartz pebbles buried beneath the sand

-Mark Morgan