The Beam Of Blue Light


Will devour

The yellow glow


To create

A zone of

Green light



The stars

Which always

Say  Here I am


Until they bounce

Off the Earth  

With quark-size


Of you and your shadow


You did not know it

But there you are

In the universe

Riding some beams

Of light from Earth

Next to a moth & some rust


By John McKernan



Things Live Inside My House





And move at night

With the silence

Of a spider web


I want to hear

The mouse trap snap

And not listen to the color yellow

In a thimble full of cheese


The fish in the tank

Are swimming too quietly

I want them to wake me up

Crunching the skull

Of a drowned fly or a cockroach


By John McKernan



Under The Stone Moon



Multiply In West Virginia


On the dark side

Of this black walnut

Leafless in March’s iced lilac midnight


Miles beneath  my feet

Sleek new Japanese  half -track  Cats

Chew a new seam of old forest

High-sulfur New jersey  power-grid light


The fossilized eyes

Of extinct birds & flying fish

Embedded in chunks of coal

Roll their  stone retinas

Into the floodlights of Wolf Pen tipple


By John McKernan



John McKernan – who grew up in Omaha Nebraska in the middle of the USA– is now a retired comma herder after teaching 41 years at Marshall University. He lives – mostly – in West Virginia where he edits ABZ Press.  His most recent book is a selected poems Resurrection of the Dust.  He has published poems in The Atlantic Monthly, The Paris Review, The New Yorker, Virginia Quarterly Review, The Journal, Antioch Review, Guernica, Field and many other magazines.


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