Author Archives: John MacKenzie

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.

A Train Whistle Far Away

It is winter and you are gone west Where foothills crumble into desert Resting your head against the black, I imagine, the cool bus window. The sun has fallen behind mountains And left the night stained blue as the sea. … Continue reading

Posted in New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Boy in Wolf’s Clothing, an album by velvel

  Vevel (the fine singer/songwriter and sound designer Michael Leon) has finally released his album Boy in Wolf’s Clothing of angry, sad, and beautiful songs. I wrote the lyrics to one of them, I’m proud to say, and it’s not … Continue reading

Posted in Boy in Wolf's Clothing, Michael Leon, Music, velvel | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

What was Blood What was Oil What was Water

After the war the cities were dust, and where The desert met the sea there was no way to Tell what was blood what was oil what was water. Don’t listen to the wind on the sands at night— It … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Mary Poppins’ Promises

She blew in on the East Wind Clinging to an umbrella Of black silk and memory Snipped from a thundercloud’s heart And stretched over hollow bones. She walks streets in silence now And sings her songs through others. The raven … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Where to Begin, And When to Harvest

In Memoriam: Robert Smith I see you in an old photo Young and gangling in overalls Standing in a field, hands on hips, Considering where to begin The planting and when to harvest. I see you in an oil lamp’s … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, Robert Smith, Uncategorized, West Point | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

A North Wind Ravels

Midnight and now the full moon falls Down the other side of the sky. A north wind ravels skeins of snow Along the river frozen black. A dead spruce stands among the fir In snow here up to their green … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment

November Rain

I can’t quite remember the rhythms Our pulses beat together at night. All I hear now is November rain, Thready and erratic in the eaves.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment