Treehouse

Michael J. Wilson

Future

            am I             dead?

The world was at war
and I was spiraling energy weapons
and sleeping with pigeons
at the top of New York

Maybe the universe is direct in all things

Future

            what happened             next?

The colors I saw were fantastic
they shot me through with full spectrums
that brought me to my knees

It was a parting of the waves

It was only myself that died?

No true atom splitting bombs
                        that took out the world?

Clemens told me to be careful what I wished for

I wanted to break      everything

            He

Standing in his white coat
holding a ball of fire
the vile history of this nation

He had to stand
on a box for the photographs

I hid in the back to look shorter

My plan would never have worked

Future
            everything      got      faster

Lightning is a beat too far to cage

Hummingbirds bees moths in a glass jar

Einstein might be a genius but also
a fool

Michael J. Wilson lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He teaches at the Institute of American Indian Arts and writes reviews for Publisher’s Weekly. As these don’t pay the bills, he also works for a coffee roaster. His most recent publications are in Ping Pong, Spittoon and KNACK.

Also see Michael’s poem Tesla and Edison Argue, and tomorrow his list of 5 Things in our ongoing contributors’ series.

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