Now Wed November
Another month, I love you:those herringbone eyes,those winks of lacethat stutter the sky and beguile. I was all in your palms then,held fast and humid,perched on a breath,on your low-hilled…
Poetry by Devon Brock
Another month, I love you:those herringbone eyes,those winks of lacethat stutter the sky and beguile. I was all in your palms then,held fast and humid,perched on a breath,on your low-hilled…
Tobacco tar walls, Resin ceiling, Dun carpet floor – all receding – creased receding to the elevator door – and the doors – the doors – the endless doors repeating.…
Sheathed in a concrete calyx, a flower, a generation folded in upon itself, waits the horrors of the sun. These petals once unfurled, fell upon by hard rains and scorch…
She was a slim volume really, a short read, an afternoon in shades of cypress, conceived on her own costly parchments. She prefaced a day a warning, that if any…
It is not inconceivable some smeared and blind thing, like hail or perhaps some top spun cue ball, maybe some blunt beaked bird wary of our passage, or a bullying…
Do not blame a shadow’s silence nor the bark of the night side tree, lit by a moon now full but still, standing on the dark side we. Light was…
Apple tree – drip candy from the highest bough. The last robins shit mulberry down. The woolybear wanders the pavements briefly, then recedes, stretched, compressed into a redemption of leaves.…
Gimme swill, not one for smooth liquors, I cannot fathom velvet. Jigger me a burlap, stir me a drink in low thread counts, course cottons and twill. My throat itches…