and thumbtack that
arrogant wind that
marches down the street like a brass band
as trees dance mad till their spines
snap giddy on the lawn
and the rain and all the barlight
soaking down from heaven is
ninety proof and oblique
the power’s down
and the awning wags a rebuke
and when the clocks rise up
it’ll be noon again
noon again and flashing
how bright this one
oblivion i rip the calendar
from the wall
and it’s june again
in all the fat indigo
of high summer i tell myself
it’s easiest to dream
when the breakwater breaks
and the tide rushes in when joblessness
holds my place in it
Image: Photo by Ishan @seefromthesky on Unsplash
Published in: The Baram House, Issue 14: https://www.baramhouse.com/poetry/devon-brock/chop
Love the poem, very much alive.
“trees dance mad till their spines
and that red noon that keeps coming back. very relatable!
Hey thank ya, MSJ!
Glad to read your poetry again, D.
Thanks so much. Sorry I haven’t posted much of anything in awhile. All of recent stuff has been submitted to journals and most of the submission requirements demand that the work be neither in print or online. But I’ll get them up when published or when I give up on individual pieces.
You’re welcome. Ah ok, good to hear you are writing and submitting. Looking forward to seeing more at some point.
Thank you. You know, I miss the time during lockdown when I could devote myself more fully to blogging and reading and engaging with others. But, alack and alas, even as we assess or reassess what is important and urgent, bills still need to be paid.
Fabulous. Action packed and dramatic.
Thank you, Worms.