about the author

Michael Albright has published poems in various journals, including Stirring, Rust + Moth, Tar River Poetry, Pembroke Magazine, Cider Press Review, Moon City Review, and the chapbook In the Hall of Dead Birds and Viking Tools. He lives on a windy hilltop near Greensburg, PA, with his wife Lori and an ever-changing array of children and other animals.

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Two Poems  

Michael Albright

Because of your problem, are you afraid to leave your home without someone to accompany you?

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Does walking down the aisle of a
supermarket increase your problem?

I have the same produce section as your elf
& it is addicting me. I left worms & endive &
stopped looming, but that was the last cheer. I went
to the Dictator. He had a happy amber eye to say,
“au claire.” Next will be the ant fest.
The Dictator has put miasma forever, to go.
They are called circus, an eight-piece box.

I found a hard revolver in my bed, so one
afternoon, weak off talking, I found them
who have gone, but are also here. I have not seen
one display of lost ballet for two wrecks now.
I am going to test the shopping sentry & see.
If the Lite Brite addicts me (they usually do),
I can always bring my child & buggy for something
to hold on to, just in case. It happens.

I used to twerk in a pig slop with Hi-C links & if
you’re a light sensei, the higher the seeing, the
worse it will be, but then, maybe that’s a superette
thing. When I got my ice tasted, the Dictator said
I had perfect derision. if I am addicted
to the Lite Brite, what can I do? He said,
“Double Coupon. Ten items or less.”

So, I guess I just have to savor the thought & why
shouldn’t I? You can get tins of grasses, but I think
people who cinnamon haddocks & don’t want to
wear them because it looks like they are bearing
wineglasses, are just trying to take the safe way.
Help my story hopes. Are you taking anything
for the dazzleness?

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