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Michael McFee

Poetry

Spring 1998

Vita Brevis

By Michael McFee

The old man who looks just like my late father cruises the grocery lot for the perfect space, then parks his car and opens its heavy door and slowly emerges […]

Poetry

Spring 1998

Goodyear

By Michael McFee

One brittle fall dusk near the end of The Year of Bitter Words, he was trying to clear his head by raking the yard hard when he sensed someone, or […]

Poetry

Fall 1992

The Roof Men

By Michael McFee

    may be drunk, or stoned. They stand atop the library like an indolent frieze, or loll on cornice, chimney pot, and parapet.     The bell tower is their time clock, its […]

Poetry

Fall 1992

Politics

By Michael McFee

The chairman is washing his dirty hands again and I am trapped here in the handicapped stall as he palms a thin red liquid from the dispenser, looking in the […]