Owen Marshall is the master of the short story. His gift for economy of word and phrase works well in poems too.

Today’s contribution to poetry month is Marsha’lls Ingratitude  one of 50 poems in his book Occasional, published by Hazard Press, 2004.



I hesitate to look the gift horse of existence in

the mouth, aware of all who have sack shuffled

into perpetual darkness, paid the ferryman his

coin, and those ova and spermatozoa impatiently

queuing on the chancy waiting list for the golden


interlude of life: that great oncer. Yet now I’m

old enough to have been around the traps, seen

the unheroic flipsides of this world’s flats, I

hear an inner voice, Oliver’s sad twin, which asks

not is there any more, but is there something else?


                 – Owen Marshall –

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