The Boxer

I think I’ll keep the poetry flowing for a bit.   This is a favorite, circa 1996.  And yes, an itty bitty beat poet does live in my brain. 


The Boxer

a poem by d.b. mcneill


It is the difference between having and wanting.

It is the difference between water and light.

It is the difference between sleeping and waking

to scream in eternal night.


There is an angel who’s fallen to human.

He’s pushing his way through the crowd.

He’s come to tell you that you should be drinking.

You should be drinking and thinking aloud.


He has the face of a pugilist

but ah, you could drown in those eyes.

He’s come to tell you the things you believe

that were born in the light

and the things you believe that are lies.



Man In A Bottle

I recently came across this in a cleaning frenzy.  I wrote it in 1996.  It made me smile, because I wrote poetry then.  And now I write prose.


Man in a Bottle

a poem by db mcneill


He will find her there

pressed between the pages

like a forgotten photo

or a postcard

rich with rhyme.

Her poetry is spinning, spinning

spinning into prose,

unlike anything imagined or pecked out in his smoky room.

Her blood stains

will never wash from his sheets

nor the wine from his floor.

She knocked it there

with her laughing hands

when she still believed

she was heavy in his heart.