There’s this luminous murk

see: how far the closeness seems?

As twere the distance in a dream

where all my fears lurk …

furious, lethargic


It must be chic’, we scheme

to build, thereafter we destroy

hoping none will be so bold,

or foolish, perhaps, to toy

with the irrefutable trick.


Pick up your eyes hands face

so into new forms may we flow.

Fears are simply curb & gutter

not curtains for the show:

we flutter for awhile, then go.



Michael Theroux


Michael Theroux writes from Northern California. His deeply published career has spanned botanist, environmental health specialist, green energy developer and resource recovery web site editor. Entering the creative writing field late in life at 72, Michael is now seeking publication of his cache of art writings which include two novels and perhaps 400 poems and short stories. Some of his shorter works may be found in Down in the Dirt, Ariel Chart, 50WS, Academy of the Heart and Mind, CafeLit, Poetry Pacific, Last Leaves, Backwards Trajectory, Small Wonders, The Acedian Review and the Lothlorien Poetry Journal.

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