A Poem by Michael H. Brownstein

And Then the Heavens Opened Their Throats to Sing

This is the word of my mistaking:
Hike with me through the prairie of prayer,
through mudflats and iron weed,
the eulogy deep and dry, the earth
salted with columbine and passion fruit,
lace wing and flying unicorn, a terrain
of frenzy, the yellow mollies of spring, milk
and milk thistle, a porcelain of words--
grant me this wish.  Spare a fictional animal.

Michael H. Brownstein has been widely published.  His latest works, Firestorm:  A Rendering of Torah (Camel Saloon Books on Blogs) and The Katy Trail, Mid-Missouri, 100F Outside and other poems (Barometric Pressures -- A Kind of a Hurricane Press).  His work has appeared in The Cafe Review, American Letters and Commentary, Xavier Review, Hotel Amerika, Meridian Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, The Pacific Review, and others.  In addition, he has nine poetry chapbooks including The Shooting Gallery (Samidat Press, 1987), Poems from the Body Bag (Ommation Press, 1988), A Period of Trees (Snark Press, 2004), What Stone Is (Fractal Edge Press, 2005) and I Was a Teacher Once (Ten Page Press, 2011).  He is the editor of First Poems from Viet Nam (2011).