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INTERSTITIAL
First light ignites the placid air
of a vaulted darkness
blown wide open
and from that wounded arc
of sky in disrepair
the radiance of morning
rages
out of a glare
of derelict clarity
and what cannot be penetrated
is pushed aside
to the margins
where our spirits
spend our days
already vindicated
wrapped in shadowed weather
leaning into our lives
like water
nudging us past those streams
forever leading toward
but never really getting here
to a reef of the heart’s own making
on an
interstitial ocean
awaiting our return to ourselves
until the interrupted night resumes
like a fever
finally broken.
ON THE STREET WHERE I LIVE
Below these jagged rows of somber roofs
and across this avenue
now cut free of all its ancient trees
(part of the campaign to purify our history)
Gadsden flags
angled in taut salute
project from the put upon mind
of suburban bungalows
in the heat of the day
neon shutters and wallpaper gutters
appear then disappear
in waves
while in backyard garden salons
the old men dream
of an immanent domain, cast in iron
without give for interpretation
the days are bright and steely-eyed, sanitized
civilized and unlived in, tediously divided
by driveways and walkways near to bursting
for want of a crack or a weed
or any other sign of life’s frailties
hedges cut flat
straight across the top, all nonsense
trimmed away
polemics such as "No Solicitors"
"Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted"
"STOP" holding in the urge
to spout out run on sentences
rather than settle for all this mindless jingoism
the oppression of ordinary days
protecting the American right of privacy
out there
on the street where I live.
Michael Zadell holds a BS in Computer Science (1993, Summa Cum Laude) and an MA in History (2010) - both degrees earned from Cleveland State University. After 20 years as a computer systems designer, Michael now writes poetry and history full time. He currently resides in a lakefront community outside Cleveland, Ohio.
Email: Michael Zadell
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