Poetry by Mark Antony Rossi

Bowie Opened Eyes

Made the outcast
You told the dreamer
Come home
You sang the truth
In many tongues
You kept exploring
While the masses slept
You now sleep eternal
And we must toil
The fields of modern day
Learning to see
The crowded canvas
Your motion painted.


11th & Hudson

My hometown
Is a page
In the hall
Of history books
It is a room
For my hungry
No tale
I tell
Will bring it
Back again


Map of My Accidental Malice

Why does my lover

Badly sing old torch songs
Casting last rites and last wrongs

I laugh I lie I love
Such are lessons I am not above



Is purely human
Is purely preferable
To reject machine routine
Absent of rime or reason
In the messiness of mistakes
Is found love
And profound creativity
And the very truth
Of creation.


Assault of the Blessed Brain

Without memory

There is no identity
There is no history

There is theft by technology
There is rape by theocracy

Neuro disease
Should be a matter of national security

Lest we lose our liberty
To the healthy instigators

Living in our midst.


Mark Antony Rossi’s poetry, criticism, fiction, and photography have appeared in The Antigonish ReviewAnother Chicago ReviewBareback MagazineBlack Heart Review, Collages & Bricolages, Death Throes, Ethical Spectacle, Gravel, Flash Fiction, Japanophile, On The Rusk, Purple Patch, Scrivener Creative Review, Sentiment Literary Journal, The Sacrificial, Wild Quarterly and Yellow Chair Review.  Find out more about him at: http://markantonyrossi.jigsy.com