Michael Igoe, city boy, neurodiverse, Chicago now Boston. Numerous works appear in journals online and in print.
Recent: sledgehammerlit.com, k’inliteraryjournal.com, featherpenblog.com.
Anthologies: The Poets of 2020, Avalanches in Poetry(Fevers of the Mind Press)@amazon.com. National Library of Poetry Editors Choice Award 1997.
Twitter: MichaelIgoe5. Urban Realism, Surrealism.( I like the night.)
She poured out warm blue beers. They dissolved soon vanishing fast in the glass. Somebody said; I love her only someone said; pass the bottle. I truly love you I finally told her. That morning, I took the time to pull on clothes. I sense love lines as imprinted smears. I used to see them rendered in fabric. We've both been there, concerned with beauty. As another implement of most serious magic.
King Sol reigns over the port city. Yearning to entrap in heat and in cool. You wish for a rising in the bristling power of his battered hands. Thriving unmolested, tethered to the wharf. Pulling on a glass door the neon sign behind it. To drink warm tincture, she calls it black coffee. Smiling then saying, “I come from Greece” Under the awning, her broken speech. Her habitual customers, strongmen and stooges. As for us, she told me: we’re tough customers.