Sunday, December 27, 2020

The Rye Field by John Greiner

Eye in flames,
my tongue
on the chopped liver
in the rye field
of the painter's sight.
Lunch's certainties
exit with shadows
asking the time.
The dining room wall
wavers at the loss of white.
This far north
there are too many gray hues.
In the cellar laughter cracks.
Hilarity 
inevitably follows
immolation.



John Greiner is a Pushcart Prize nominated writer living in Queens, NY. He was educated at the New School for Social Research.  Greiner's work has appeared in Sand, Empty Mirror, Sensitive Skin, Unarmed, Street Valueand numerous other magazines. His chapbooks, broadsides and collections of poetry and short stories include  Turnstile Burlesque (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2017), The Laundrymen (Wandering Head Press, 2016), Bodega Roses (Good Cop/Bad Cop Press, 2014),Modulation Age (Wandering Head Press, 2012), Shooting Side Glances(ISMs Press, 2011) and Relics From a Hell’s Kitchen Pawn Shop (Ronin Press, 2010). 


No comments:

Post a Comment

Them Voices.. By Michael E. Duckwall

  I tried talking to myself, they say ten different voices in one head means “Schizophrenia?” or however you spell it. The voices say “My sp...