Poetry by Devon Brock.
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 rock nor mould?I draw a picture of a bird as there is no bird,a wife as there is no wife,a boot as there is no... Continue Reading →
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 a hinge - slim passage -the way mice flatten and slip into a cupboard,chew your rice, your wire, and every fiberof what was pantried, constant... Continue Reading →
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 loose stringCome song come song come home song She tap in the windowsmear in the middensdrop dead arterial — right nowwheezing in a pumpmumbling in... Continue Reading →
...No phalanx can hold before such anarchy.
You want cool light —Black light leopard light?Acid light? Tape velvet to a crane then —lift up a lump anddrop it in the tub.Soap ring don’t rise,never did. Dropped anvil from a ledge once,It was my body, my body —the whip rush slab watersting body —nobody saw the splash body. And when I climbed back... Continue Reading →
Nascenceheaved into beingstrippedlike drumsticklike wingCartilagenot run not flown Toothed to a speckindentured to a thought : I am : placenta and rotI am séanceand rattling chairI am convulsionred joy and worrycolon and throat I am allthat passes through mewhether it be lovefamishor the rumorthat scratched my nameon an eggshell. Image: Robert Zunikoff on Unsplash
I’ll take life neat, no chaser...
Turn our eyes to the ember risen, the ember fallen...
This morning, coyotes circled the town...
Today they are mist and familiar...
