December 18-24, 2017: Poetry from Pamela Miller and Mike Meraz

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Pamela Miller and Mike Meraz

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Pamela Miller
pam.chwedyk@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

Pamela Miller lives in Chicago. She is the author of Fast Little Shoes (Erie Street Press), Mysterious Coleslaw (Ridgeway Press), Recipe for Disaster and Miss Unthinkable (both from Mayapple Press). Her work has been published in many print and online journals and has recently appeared, or is forthcoming, in RHINO, Peacock Journal, New Poetry from the Midwest 2017, Pirene’s Fountain, Star 82 Review, MAYDAY and elsewhere. She recently retired from a 30-year career in editing/writing/publishing and now does nothin’ but that poetry stuff.

The following work is Copyright © 2017, and owned by Pamela Miller. and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


Prayer to Four Gods, Because One Is No Longer Enough

Father of red skies and buttermilk,
Lady of skeletons and zeppelins,
Master of damage and drainage,
Holy Lord of whispers from shipwrecks,

Guide our ascent into corridors of stars.
Test our faith with evaporating miracles.
Make us kneel on needles in a hailstorm.
Smash our sins with implacable hammers.

Weave us wings to beat against the rafters.
Sharpen our teeth to gnaw away the darkness.
Tempt us not into cavernous havoc.
Scour our hearts with Brillo pads of fire.

Hallowed be your hands that swaddle us in moonlight.
Blessed is your balm that numbs our sullen hungers.
Dreaded be your name, your shriek, 
your poison on our pillows.
For yours is that glimmer of a kingdom
too pure for our uproarious souls.



Mike Meraz
michaelmeraz4@yahoo.com

Bio (auto)

Mike Meraz lives and writes in Whittier Ca. His latest book “She Poems” is available at Epic Rites Press. 

The following work is Copyright © 2017, and owned by Mike Meraz and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


untitled

She opens my
Closet and
Says
You’re like a
40 year 
Old
Goth

Her
20 something
Katy
Perry
Ass
Looks through
My
Clothes like
A
Secret
I was 
Keeping

She finds
Nothing

Puts
On one
Of my
Jackets and
Says

I’m Mike
Meraz

She 
Found
Me.

 



 


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