Saturday, 5 November 2016

1 Poem by M. J. Iuppa

Something, which is

I am not like the sycamore, willing
to disrobe in the dead of winter.
My mottled skin shields me from
the streetlight’s dreary buzz.
I am out of practice, like
the sky’s inability to shake snow
from its sleeves; yet, my footsteps
disappear in thin air—
I am set loose upon the world.
To go the right way would take
advantage of happiness. And why not?
This quirky thought, without design.
M.J.Iuppa


Bionote
    
 M.J. Iuppa   lives on Red Rooster Farm near the shores of Lake Ontario. Most recent poems, lyric essays and fictions have appeared in the following journals: Poppy Road Review, Black Poppy Review, Digging to the Roots, 2015 Calendar, Ealain, Poetry Pacific Review, Grey Sparrow Press: Snow Jewel Anthology, 100 Word Story, Avocet, Eunoia Review, Festival Writer, Silver Birch Press: Where I Live Anthology, Turtle Island Quarterly, Wild Quarterly, Boyne Berries Magazine (Ireland), The Lake, (U.K.), Punchnel’s, Camroc Review, Tar River Poetry, Corvus Review, Clementine Poetry, Postcard Poetry & Prose, and Brief Encounters: A Collection of Contemporary Nonfiction, edited by Judith Kitchen and Dinah Lenney(Norton), among others.  She is the Director of the Visual and Performing Arts Minor Program at St. John Fisher College.

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