America — Poetry by Dennis Mahagin

Ventura highway, you eluded me
pale blue horse
on the shoulder, a shudder, lit up
and rearing. Lenten moon, your silver cup
those prescient
effervescent rivulets of luck
eluded me too, splashed across some
ether, or other
proscenium I’ve been to
the desert, but not you, not really,
what I wanted was a name, Key West,
New York, Champagne: our singer slash
songwriters, so strange now, how
endangered, glassed by
ornithologists
out of Cleveland,
San Pedro, Zachary: and a dirty old van’s
been shadowing me, too, straddling
the shoulder as any stripe
of bullet, zag
for an age, oh America, my left arm hangs
from an open window of a side of the
road they take into
you, into
mirrors and granted,
reality shows
what I won’t reveal
about this road,
mainly a feeling and long,
not like any song I know,
when the bridge
comes America
I pay the toll.

 

 



Dennis Mahagin‘s latest book of poems is called “Longshot & Ghazal”.
It is available for purchase currently from Mojave River Media / Press.
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