Backyard Photography

(snapshots taken or not)


The old lady blouse

small as a child

strung up alone

on the clothesline

big enough to cover

vast sagging

old lady breasts.

She lived in that white house.


Snow and a dog,

Bowser, back by the fence

sniffing out a

rabbit cold

cold rabbit.


The park out there

the shed always smelled

like pee

rainy days we glued popsicle stick

boxes and braided lanyards

whatever the hell they were.


The monster icicle


a bit into Bill's eye

or near it

and he ran home bleeding.



her gap teeth blunt pegs

her eyes, the kindest

and saddest things

in Marquette Gardens.


Me on a swing dragging

canvas shoes in the fine fine dust

kicking up dull explosions

waiting for something to happen.



All poems by Br. Tom Murphy, O. Carm.

My Poems

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