“Bathtub” by Michael T. Smith

1)   Meticulous droplets fill a dirty tub held together by a ring of filth, a matrimonial altar of the Continue reading →

“Copy of a wh*re” by Michael T. Smith

The term ‘first person’ shows how selfish we are.  I would never Look at myself […ergo sum…] the way We Continue reading →

“O, Woman (Sonnet)” by Michael T. Smith

O, woman thy airy ways have — but stop!                             You must be green of reading po’tic sop That’s written about Continue reading →

“Gather Apart” by Michael T. Smith

(from and to Maya Angelou)   The loss of a first love is so painful that it borders on the Continue reading →

“Missing” by Michael T. Smith

It’s like condemning the sky for being blue; though never spoken, your name flits through my head, like a bird Continue reading →