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John Engels

Winter 1993

Dead Pig

By John Engels

Not drunk, but sick from bad fish or fowl or some several other possibilities, in fact almost to dying on the landing in Marseilles, the liberty boat long gone, the […]

Winter 1993

Newborn

By John Engels

for Henry Matthew Amistadi The world displayed itself simply enough– there were portents, of course, the mirrors smoky and slow. But I had no choice, I was unpreventable. A minute […]

Spring 1989

Moonset

By John Engels

At moonset the stars flung themselves apart from one another, the frogs that had rejoiced all night from the river’s edge fell silent, and in the deep mulch of shadow […]

Spring 1989

Poem on My Birthday

By John Engels

I At times in the night the lips of the continents collide and rise and then withdraw, leaving halved spirals of nautiloids, sheared corals, the raw hole opening as in […]

Spring 1989

Black Dog

By John Engels

Just before dawn the yard is empty, no sign anything had prowled there all night under my window, loll-tongued and grinning, in and out of the long shadows, any time […]

Spring 1989

Brooding Duck

By John Engels

Five weeks on her infertile eggs brooded the Rouen hen, and they turned blue, then black, then purely stank.At first, given to pity and the brute shadow of blood between […]

Fall 1984

The Pool at Sunrise

By John Engels

A short time ago, without warning and unwilled by us, the garden began to waver between green and grey, faster and faster, until — trying to accept what light there […]