Grand Little Things

Two Poems By Mark J. Mitchell

ON A THEME OF MATTHEW ARNOLD’S The scholar gypsy never moved. He stayed as still as the center of a record. No sound escaped

Canzone Late summer’s clouds flame-out. The cresting sun- rise slashes pink and mauve upon the sea. One might mistake Frank for some favorite son.

CASINO BEFORE DAWN A dead fly on the piano, no one playing. Weary wanderers hunt for fun, dollar bills like security guards who are

After hearing Mahler Five Too long, you said of Mahler, the lone taste we didn’t share, proof that I am separate apart from the

Hearing Dr. King’s hope for a justice bent world, I believe and pray to believe, beleaguered by police at barricades, chanting. Connor Orrico is a

RUMINATION Long, long enough have I endured the throes And torments of the lust that courses through me Whene’er I think on her – Victor,

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