Art by Ann Johnson

Art by Ann Johnson

 On the Migration of a Poet

we called him “King of the Alien Heart,”

but with similar enough anatomy.

the way he sang at the slaughter

of sundogs was so eccentric!


we suffered his quirks

for the way he lit up a sunset

at noon

or made our sexual organs


with a metaphor

about flowers.


he had the attention

span of a duck in heat,

but the memory of a goose

who’s finally made up his mind.


“this is how I migrate”

he’d say, holding up

a wrinkled sheet of chicken



“north or south?” we’d humor him.

“neither” he’d say

and get the glassy look

of a man on a spaceship

spotting the planet

where he was born.


About bensten

Teacher, writer, blogger and spiritual practitioner. Managing editor of

One response »

  1. jenny says:

    Brilliant poem. Where did you get your inspiration for that one? I like the art you found, it compliments your poem really well.

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