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Sweet and Bitter Greens

Poetry by Devon Brock

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Month: April 2020

Posted on April 16, 2020May 1, 2020

The Upstairs Window

I am the dim lightin the upstairs roombehind the curtain. I am not the shadowpassed before it,nor the shadethat funnels it down. No — I am the lurethat tempts a…

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Posted on April 15, 2020May 1, 2020

Now, in Delirium

A note,scribbled in deliriumtells more than a pottered trope. So, here, in a moment of tyranny,I will say, and with all fervententropy, that I am dying. I cannot take your…

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Posted on April 15, 2020May 1, 2020

To My Brother

You found a pinky in the woodpile,underneath some wet leaves.You brought it back to the house,hairless and blind, shivering.Satch said it wouldn’t survive an hour,without its mom, without its nest,but…

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Posted on April 15, 2020May 1, 2020

The Top

I will tell you what I saw,when my eyes first opened. I will tell you how,in the first recollection,all things come to be: I was three years old,sitting on the…

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Posted on April 15, 2020May 1, 2020

Last Night (through the windows)

Venus,the vivacious fool,giddy with the huntchased the sunlike a loose balloonover the treetops,over the long bare rise,the string,just out of reach. And in the east,brazen with a honed moonrisen, Saturn,…

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Posted on April 14, 2020May 1, 2020

The Moon Comes Quickly

This is a chair.It is oak, and the joints are loose —they pop. But the stain is pristine. And this is a chair:snow and cherry,they fall — these blossoms. And…

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Posted on April 13, 2020May 1, 2020

Lament for Monday the 13th

Nobody cried for Monday,turned thirteen, born badThey saydragged up by the hairby the neck They sayshove it in our faces They saywag it like villain like mangelike toxinspat clean outta…

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Posted on April 12, 2020May 1, 2020

The Sharpening Stone

A proper stir fry demandsten thousand precise cuts. And yet,I‘ve never been shownhow to oil a stone. I’ve never stood, scallionon a stool, trancedand low angled on novaculite, as a…

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