the Coen Brothers’ film at the end of the tunnel | Michael Prihoda

cohen


Michael Prihoda lives in central Indiana. He is the founding editor of After the Pause, an experimental literary magazine and small press. His work has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net Anthology and he is the author of nine poetry collections, most recently Out of the Sky (Hester Glock, 2019).

He is on Twitter at @michaelprihoda

Habeas Corpus; palm reader; anyone who says they wipe without using one of their hands is a liar | Michael Prihoda

i want
to see a judge

that you might
have my body.

you have angled my mind
through subterranean hours.

tricked my brain into
fearing space.

look at my
hands.

if, then,
you stay

rigid-faced
when that Arab dust

swirls
about the barbed-wire,

i’ll look █████
in the eyes,

whisper “it
is finished.”


Michael Prihoda lives in central Indiana. He is the founding editor of After the Pause, an experimental literary magazine and small press. His work has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net Anthology and he is the author of nine poetry collections, most recently Out of the Sky (Hester Glock, 2019).

He is on Twitter at @michaelprihoda

Catch 22, Part 2 | Michael Prihoda

i am accused,

the distance

immaterial.

North Africa

is not Los Angeles.

it is certainly not

Vancouver.

you seem

to write history

for the rest

of us.

but

you can’t

fuck

with my

geography.


Michael Prihoda lives in central Indiana. He is the founding editor of After the Pause, an experimental literary magazine and small press. His work has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net Anthology and he is the author of nine poetry collections, most recently Out of the Sky (Hester Glock, 2019).

He is on Twitter at @michaelprihoda

Catch-22, Part 1 | Michael Prihoda

Contains violent imagery and references to torture

“you’ll let
me go

if i give
you the name

of a Middle-Eastern
man

i once knew?” even
if he drowned

in the Black
sea?

you bring
the bucket back.

“if you’re not
a terrorist,

surely you
know a terrorist.”

it becomes
hard to breathe.

i am back
in the womb.

more than water
makes this unspeakable.

“if you’re not
a terrorist,

surely you’ll
give up terrorists.

save yourself.
why won’t you save yourself?”

don’t you see?
every breath

of water
brings heaven closer?


Michael Prihoda lives in central Indiana. He is the founding editor of After the Pause, an experimental literary magazine and small press. His work has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net Anthology and he is the author of nine poetry collections, most recently Out of the Sky (Hester Glock, 2019).

He is on Twitter at @michaelprihoda