David Spicer


David Spicer has published poems in The American Poetry Review, CircleStreet, Gargoyle, Moria, Oyster River Pages, Ploughshares, Remington Review, Santa Clara Review, The Sheepshead Review, Steam Ticket, Synaeresis, Third Wednesday, Yellow Mama, and elsewhere. Nominated for a Best of the Net three times and a Pushcart twice, he is author of six chapbooks and four full-length collections, the latest two being American Maniac (Hekate Publishing) and Confessional (Cyberwit.net). His fifth, Mad Sestina King, is forthcoming from FutureCycle Press. His website is http://www.davidspicer76.com.


Early morning. Neighbors slept like spoiled cats. I guessed they dreamed as I rode past their homes,   homes quiet as dreams, not guessing my bike ride. Robins fussed before the moon blessed me.   The moon blessed the fussing robins’ songs. I jogged and thought of you coughing in the dark.   Had your dark cough jogged my thought of you…

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