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Member since July 1, 2009 | 2,426 Readings |

Thomas Gibney

is the poet laureate of abandoned boxcars.

Recent Work

Brooklyn by way of Piedmont

(1)

498 views

I’ve been to Asheville. Maudeville. Dollywood. / The vaudevillian neon ache, the cannibal notions of a circus / population fucked up on groupthink…

(0)

696 views

It’s like we’ve said before: earth won’t fluff / its cushions for us, why should heaven? / Idiocy makes for good talk, but / / banter alone…

“I’m alone in the…”

(2)

592 views

I’m alone in the tourniquet of shade in / the garden watching apples assail space / with the way they punctuate it. / / They’re so good at…

Currywood. Running. Noon. Bright.

(2)

640 views

Around the apricots. Damascos. That’s Spanish for. / The breeze. Hissing in my. Where did my breath. / I need it back. I’m running. The water. Tell…

Subscribed by Thomas Gibney

Let’s try to explain how this terrible…

(0)

38 views

I stare it down / The deep-sea creature / Its lolling eye teasing me in the dark / A creature of the deep / Feeding on dazzle / Its glowing…

The Future of Flowers

(0)

83 views

All night I listened to the man / laughing in the courtyard. All night / his laughter said, / / Let things outlast you: everything you do, / do…

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