The Diminishing Dot
A Boeing occults Betelgeuse,red left and running,and an arrow loosedfinds not its mark.And in the green flickers,banked to a bull,some pink ears popand the belts stay locked. They’re always leaving,they…
Poetry by Devon Brock
A Boeing occults Betelgeuse,red left and running,and an arrow loosedfinds not its mark.And in the green flickers,banked to a bull,some pink ears popand the belts stay locked. They’re always leaving,they…
Rise all you dead men and pound on your plots,Take to your saws and your fiddles, your pots;Take to your hammers and riddles and sighs;Bang out dirt music, pound the…
Once, in the attic,a marble – black as holes –rolled to me – came to reston the floorboards –below the rafters –cathedral and coarse. Once, in the attic,among the dustlightand…
Steve had a blue tarp and two doe tags so we were certain that when he returned we would know. When he split down 425 in his late-model red Silverado,…
First the eagle glid low overhead.Then the farm cat, lame and tabby,limped from bumper to dumpster,while we smokedand whined about our day. Image: Patrick Brinksma on Unsplash
But for the pheasant’s coppered wing the fieldsin sculpted snows ne’er bring the promised yieldsnor pleasures found ‘til light does crest the riseat dawn and ambers claw upon the eyes.…
Published in “La Piccioletta Barca” – Issue 18 – April 2020: https://picciolettabarca.com/issues/issue-18/
It is not the sapling or bit snowthat scrapes the window, coaxing,Come out little boy, come out –Come out where the sting wind blowsCome out where the wind plays a…