Elastic and Bound

None the wiser, trampolined pigs
disgorge the sty, and all the rocky run steam,
swirled in basins, churned in the mud of the Missouri or
misery or the confluence of all them slumtacks

dulled in a stream – up there – not North –
not skybound like frogspring – but face first
in sweltered weltered fate. We stay up late
for our darlings, those codified blips too plump

for an eye, too hot for a hand, too far, too far
for a sad sack burlap rig, trampolined
for some lung beyond its grip — its trip —
far far and through its fingers slipped.

Image: Jason Blackeye on Unsplash

7 Thoughts

  1. Beautiful poem Devon. I especially loved “We stay up late
    for our darlings, those codified blips too plump”. I realize what amazes me about your poetry is that even though you have a very distinct style, every time I read a poem of yours it’s completely 100% new, evey piece has its own thing going on! I admire that!


Leave a Reply to Devon Brock Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.