A Parallel Uni-Verse
What moment fed
the moonshine
lobotomy
of their loose smiles?

A white sheet
covers the dead
bodies of hills
whistling the moon's surface.

The crows own this
angelic kingdom;
their black eyes
pop appetite.

In the night light
deer graze
the amputations'
manger of arms.


Main Street Rag Publishing Co.
Scarecrows
By Kenneth Frost
My dog listens
to slightly
out-of-the-ordinary
sounds
with old eyes
in a young body.
She always has
sifted the world like sand
the way I mill something
between my fingertips,
hunting ancestors
as they creep up,
smiling infirmities.


Kenneth Frost taught at Columbia University and The New School, and lived in Wilton, Maine. His collections of poetry include Night Flight and Time On Its Own.
Sifting
By Kenneth Frost
The new moon
drops
a skull

and
chases
it

clearing
a ghost's
throat


Kenneth Frost taught at Columbia University and The New School, and lived in Wilton, Maine. His collections of poetry include Night Flight and Time On Its Own.
The new moon
By Kenneth Frost
Bluejay
By Kenneth Frost
Does the jay know
the fieldmouse jigs
in the cat's eye
when his voice drags
November
through the sun's cataract
to smolder leaves
in the Mongolia
of losing autumn?

Blue fingers float,
dragging their ghosts
on the hayfield
to sunset.


Kenneth Frost taught at Columbia University and The New School, and lived in Wilton, Maine. His new collection is Coring the Moon published by Main Street Rag.
Weather Report
By Kenneth Frost
I listen to the weather,
hoping for the cold front to stay
for a month
with slight breaks
like a deep breath disguised
as a held breath.

The mind memorizes
a warm dry room.

What intersection of light
and cerebral energy
diagrams
the afterglow
of a dream,
carries
the traces of a face,
the timbre of a voice
and not the voice?

Radio-crystal images
of another life
stick to the window.


Kenneth Frost taught at Columbia University and The New School, and lived in Wilton, Maine. His new collection is Coring the Moon published by Main Street Rag.