ways past sunrise
ed markowski, USA
in the carolinas, it's may 23rd, 1947.
i know this 'cause that's what the calendar at
billy pickett's sundries said when i went to buy
a quart of shine this mornin'.
i'm the man who lives
next door to her, and i'm
the drunk who shuffles past her house just
about every evenin'.
either ways, time
and moonshine ain't dulled
my sense of observation none. she's soft an'
smokey like a gypsy princess, an' twice as
smart as a switch on the hindside.
as fate would have
it though, asleep or awake,
drunk or sober, in this dream or that, i'm old
enough to be her daddy two times over, an'
there's nuthin' i can do . . . but dream.
an evening crow
dips into the fragrance
Ed Markowski resides
in Auburn Hill, Michigan.
His work has appeared
in The Birmingham Poetry Review, Blind Man's Rainbow, Bear
Creek Haiku, Bottle Rockets, Brevities, The
Elysian Fields Baseball Quarterly, Fan Magazine, Heron's
Nest, MayFly, Modern Haiku, Nerve Cowboy, The
Parnassus Literary Journal, Raw Nervz Haiku, The River
Rouge Examiner, Sho Magazine, Short Stuff, Slow
Trains, and Snapshots.
His poetry was first
published by City Magazine in 1978, and has been featured on
Detroit Public Radio.
2005: Simply Haiku