Michael T. Smith is an Assistant Professor of English who teaches both writing and film courses.  He has published over 150 pieces (poetry and prose) in over 80 different journals.  He loves to travel.

Cover Letter:

Bands will typically cover other bands’ songs.  This collection of poems is meant to be a collection of poetry “covers.”  The term cover was meant to be broad, ranging from writing a different version of a poem (Old Man at the Café) to censoring a poem (To My…), alluding to the life of the original author.

Fixing the Wheel

(a cover of John Lennon)
 
 
I’ve a Room in my head for lease
altogether crowded out by emptiness.
Making strawberry fields a public domain
can welcome all, but without any chairs.
 
Isshoni – we hold our porous hands,
each stuffing chocolate cake in a bag,
learning how to smile on a wild
ride on a Merry-Go-Henry.
 
And little messengers behind bent tulips
ring the hollow tings across the universe.
Understand girl: “giving me no reply
is better than singing about red tonight,”
 
Or so says a loser stomping gumboots.
Oh boy, have you read the news
about tomorrow? The Albert Hall’s like my head,
renting out to the world bedded in with you.
 
Erstewhile bullfrogs croak nowhere fast.
I’m so tired – my heart semolina
overspilling the holly-roller’s eye --
unless, half this poem is meaningless.

City Lights (a Cover of Charlie Chaplin)

*There are 574 total words in the intertitles of Chaplin’s magnum opus City Lights.  This homage poem is constructed from those words alone.
 
Tomorrow,
               The people will face life,
the sober dawn shall take possession,
a different man
                              has a fever and…
tomorrow the birds shall sing
 
To the people of this city:
our prosperity, like flowers,
               the fever will burn up.
For the cure,
               We will donate our prosperity:
Rent your attention,
rent your face,
your home
your car.
 
Today,
               the people will face
the autumn conquest.
               The people will face it sober:
Split your home,
swell your news,
for nothing but what’s returned.