4 poems by Wilson Koewing



The world is dead I mean nothing.
The town is quiet
I only hear airplanes.
An hour ago, people were happy.
Drinking and enjoying themselves.
Mountain views that mean nothing.
I’m sick of smoking these smokes with shaky fingers.
Shivering on summer nights.
A booze hound.
I jump out of my skin when heat pumps roar into action.
I won’t say I’m dead inside, but I’m not living.
I’m anxious often.
Like a flower that won’t bloom.
I want my life back.


I was with her
And you were doing whatever it is that you do with dudes.
But you always called when I answered.
Or maybe opposites attract.
We often sat at BBQ joints or bars around town.
The tension palpable.
At least that’s what I always thought.
Then I’d go home to the coffin I’d made with her.
And you’d tell me about fucking dudes you weren’t nearly as into as me

Mission Impossible

The bridge in Prague.
Jon Voigt dying seems so much better now.
The legs of so many women.
I’m hopelessly in love with them all
so I stay up late drinking in comfortable rooms.
An old man maybe young by some standards.
I wonder if I even have one drop to give.
I wake up early because I don’t sleep.
You flash across my membrane.
Those few times.
I can’t forget you like I can’t forget I’m stuck in this body
Or that you danced in the moonlight with my heart
laughing like I wouldn’t remember.
Well I do
you seated on the edge of the tub while I tried but pills.
I did finally.
You ran over and spit in the sink.
Then left me cold.
Because you read a month’s old text.
Where I was out in the quarter with an old friend.
girl sure, but we weren’t.
I mean, I would have
but that wasn’t our sitch.
We still talk.
You’ve been gone for an eternity.
And aren’t coming back.

Whiskey in Fall

A cold glass of whiskey in the youthful crisp Fall.
I’d like to travel north and then more north.
To seek a peace that’s rarely reached.
Where mountains fall beautiful then rise anew
And alpine lakes plunge headlong into endless blue.
A place so frigid you can never have a better glass and smoke in your life.
Two things that go together just like trust and betrayal.