Angeli Agnus
written by: Michael Ball
@whirred
Every Eastertide, the bikers dug a pit.
Local butchers, both Old and Young
Mike Fiumefreddo, gave spring lambs
to the Hells Angels block party.
The bent, ancient Italian donna
made carboys of raw red wine
Somehow by the third glass on East 3rd,
that wine magically turned pretty good.
Michael Ball scrambled from daily and weekly papers through business and technical pubs. Satisfaction and feeling like a writer came through blogging and podcasting, mostly political. Born in OK and raised in rural WV, he became more citified in Manhattan and Boston. He joined the Hyde Park Poets Workshop two years ago, and will never again write a manual or help system. He has moderate success placing poems in print and online.
Latest posts by Michael Ball (see all)
- Separate Strands - March 14, 2023
- Not at 24 - November 22, 2022
- My Ghost - October 20, 2022
