Michael Dickman was born and raised in Portland, Oregon. His twin brother, Matthew, also has poems on this site. Michael is the author of three collections of poetry: Green Migraine (Copper Canyon Press, 2016); The End Of The West (Copper Canyon, 2009); and Flies (Copper Canyon, 2011), which won the James Laughlin Award for the best second book by an American […]
I think the light Appearing, then Disappearing, across The trunk of the Live- Oak is the boss Of everything. Not You. Not Your hands tearing up the grass in the neighbors yard, fashioning Little green crosses No one can fit on. But we can put them to our lips! And whistle. * I […]
There is a way through our bodies together out of hell, your hand on my face I can Feel it
We were talking And then we were dancing And then it was quiet, and I thought This is what we were saying: —Sandalwood —Palace Fire —Ghost Limbs —Blindness —Oh that’s lovely —Thanks —Home —The color red —The real color red —Oral Plexus —Lightly, lightly —Salt Skins —Lightening —Night Work Your mouth My […]
Michael Dickman talks about how he determines the length of a poem and the length of the lines in a poem.
Michael Dickman talks about two poets he recommends reading.