June 12-18, 2023: Poetry from Anne Mikusinski and Tony Gruenewald

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Anne Mikusinski

Anne Mikusinski has always been in love with words, whether they have been read or spoken aloud. She has been writing poems and short stories since she was seven years old. Her influences range from Dylan Thomas and Sylvia Plath to David Byrne and Nick Cave. She hopes that someday, her writing will be as much of an influence on someone as these writers have been on her.

The following work is Copyright © 2023, and owned by Anne Mikusinski and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Night Music

Tonight’s soundtrack
Includes
The soft whirring
Of rotating blades
Above my head
They lull my thoughts to
Sleep
And usher in
Tonight’s cast
Of worries and dead author’s quotes,
And other things unspoken
Before midnight.
Their presence brings an uneasy
Familiarity
To the room
And a longing for better
Company
At this hour
A wish for companionship
And soft words
Before sleep.

Tony Gruenewald

Tony Gruenewald’s poetry collections include The Secret History of New Jersey (Northwind) and Honk (Kelsay Books). His writing has appeared in The New York Times, Tiferet, Edison Literary Review, Paterson Literary Review, Exit 13, U.S. 1 Worksheets, English Journal, WNYC.org, and other places in print and online. After working as a broadcast journalist, an advertising copywriter, and an audiobook producer, he is now a media archivist who lives in Garwood, New Jersey. Visit Tony on the web here.

The following work is Copyright © 2023, and owned by Tony Gruenewald and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

The Past

On its collar,
the past
should be made
to wear a bell,

because at my age
there’s more of it
prepared to pounce
and sink its teeth,

to make me silently
shriek behind
my façade of
pleasant surprise

whenever it slinks
around the corner,
struts up the aisle
at the ballgame,

stealthily stalks
me online,
appears in a pew
as if an apparition,

or quietly watches
while it lays in wait
in the last row
of my poetry reading.


Previously published in Tiferet.

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