Thanks to Jeremiah Walton of Nostrovia Press, I have new poems published here: http://www.nostroviatowriting.com/4/post/2013/02/late-night-berlin-by-mp-powers.html, and here: http://nostroviatowriting.tumblr.com/post/43728976811/deconstruction-poem-by-mp-powers#notes.

Check ’em out if you have a chance.

p.s. I’m only sending my poetry out to people who ask for it these days, so if you’re an editor, and you want poems from me, just ask. If you just wanna read my poems, the best place find them is on my New York Quarterly poet’s page, here: http://www.nyqpoets.net/poet/mppowers.

There’s links on the site to just about everything I’ve published online since 2007.

If you don’t give a shit about my poetry, but are here for other reasons, here’s St. Michael Defeats the Devil, by Eugene Delacroix, one of my favorite painters.


“Eugène Delacroix was a curious mixture of skepticism, politeness, dandyism, willpower, cleverness, despotism, and finally, a kind of special goodness and tenderness that always accompanies genius” ~ Baudelaire

Ury Lesser (Berlin bei Nacht)

Germany is das Land der Dichter und Denker (the land of poets and thinkers), and I would also add Musikaten (musicians), but for some reason there aren’t too many painters I greatly admire. None who match up to the Van Goghs, the Rembrandts, the Picassos, or the Dalis of the world, anyway. But there’s a few I like: Caspar David Friedrich, Max Beckmann, Max Ernst, and my latest find, via the Alte Nationalgalerie on Museum Island, a lesser-known talent named Ury Lesser (1861-1931). I don’t think anyone’s captured Berlin at night in a painting better than him. Here’s Leipziger Straße, Hochbahnhof Bülowstraße, and Potsdamer Platz, respectively.



Lesser Ury 1

Durable Goods (Zwei Gedichte – 2 Poems)

Here are a couple poems I just had published in Aleathia Drehmer’s great little microzine Durable Goods.


Standing on my 5th floor balcony,
I peer over the rail,
seized by the thought of falling
or jumping.

That other world
looks back up at me: the horrifying
and sublime.

So close.

It’s the place every erotic love
story tends to.
All the best poems and symphonies
intimate it.

The mountains and hungry sea,
the human
face, the truth all around us
looks up to me.

So easy to perceive and to believe;
almost impossible
to embrace.

Between two eternities,
I tremble
on the edge.



Dare to being the dream
you dreamt, for it’s all a dream anyway.

And the dragonfly
of genius waltzing on your ear,

and the Arabian perfumes
in your cut-diamond vials,

your broken song on the winds;

find yourself a myth
that fits
and live by it.