It hurt to try and open it.
So, I did what I’ve always done
and went to a pub to read a book.
Only this time, I was in the book.
The bar was full so I stood in the corner
and ordered a dark beer.
The noise from the many conversations
faded, as they always do when I read,
but when I touched the book it felt electric.
“Here I am,” I thought. “About to read my own story.”
But I couldn’t do it. I opened the book to page 62.
Hell, I even took a picture.
But I couldn’t read my short story.
I couldn’t even get beyond the second line.
I’m not sure why. I don’t know what happened.
I’ll most likely read all the others and never read mine.

-M. Taggart


book view


Got it!
fumbled with my cell phone
knew I’d get close

it’s hard to know when to care
Sitting Next to my son
feeling him lean in


just the word

the movie was good

-M. Taggart


I smoked a cigar today
The sun split me in two

Dark. Not dark.

When I was young I fished brook trout

I wasn’t very good

Mostly Chris caught them
and our mother would sometimes prepare them to eat

I remember one time
She took the tinfoil from the freezer
and put the frozen trout on the skillet

I didn’t want to eat it

Which way I lean my head
is where I’m split

It’s funny how this all happens

-M. Taggart


There’s no good time to write
it’s an everything thing

while rocking
the baby

I can remember rocking Gavin to sleep
in the middle of the day

being Judged

I was a stay at home Dad

rocking a baby

Knowing I was doing the right thing

Knowing the Judgment

Gavin would slowly fall asleep
sprawled out in his little onesie
on my lap

And I knew how lucky I was

as I wrote poems with my thumb

-M. Taggart