Tag Archives: Michael Berkowitz

in our fluorescent secrecy. You still in New York drifting back and forth between a portrait and all the portraits in the world. You haven’t gone yet, and the fact is    
at home I never got the right person, I’m … Continue reading →

Instead of dog years, I would prefer to measure time in moth years, by a moon not full but waning, not howled at but named for, not Indian but gossamer summer nights. Not the nobility of turning always homeward, but … Continue reading →

The way steam lifts from leaves the way birds lift from branches migratory. Transitory the way flame lifts from flint the way morning lifts from moonlight Michael Berkowitz is a poet, web developer and aspiring trapeze artist. He lives in … Continue reading →

I’m old enough to remember when plastic seemed marvelous. A flick of the wrist and leftovers stayed left over. My grandmother in her last good years asking how many girlfriends I had. I don’t    save money the way I should. … Continue reading →