Catching Rain
What you see here, now,
happened long ago…
Poetry by Devon Brock
Bear witness to the cruel, yes.
And bear witness to the cruel
love that binds…
Deliverer of ice and abandon,Bringer of sweets and old rind,Maker of burnt grass and pipes,wire, black tire pond and larvae, What am I to make when brickis neither form nor…
If you cannot, then you mustslip off the rim of your stout blue cup,run quicksilver on what can only be called toils,the twin toils of posture and tired gates,rustbound to…
It’s like blow in a hollowlike didgeridoo —a coo into madnesslow slung lowhammock of an old song— numb, the breeze of hercool like swallow Come songCome song come gut come…