Poetry by Devon Brock.
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 →
We had Yugo ham / ham on a string —tough in the closet. Fuck it was cold, like your breathhung for days in the candlelight,no different than that flat ass smokecrushed and shit-scared to rise. We had ham and Bulgarian goatcheese — a winter’s worth of dry,crumbled, a peasant’s worthof pocket knife, salt and thin-sliced... Continue Reading →
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 you gave it a name, cupped it in your palm, drew milkinto a paper towel, and it suckled,briefly. And in one minute seizure,it was gone,... Continue Reading →
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 floor,holding a blanket. I was sitting on the floorholding a pale blue blanket. I was spinning a top. I was spinning a topwhile sitting alone,... Continue Reading →
PrefaceShe Denies a Killing as Faith PresumesAnd the Old Dogs DieThree Books and a ShadowOn the Tower Overlooking the ChurchyardMigration and Other Foul WindsIn the Gamble of SavageryUpturn Cans as Vandals Sack RomeLike Emeralds in a Steel MillA Transplant / A PiningThe Vibration of LiliesAs All the Black Suns SpinIn the Tedium of BallisticsAnd Another... Continue Reading →
We were friends once,before we sharpened scrapsfrom unfinished homesat the dead end of Cypress. We eyed ‘em true, those moldings,those sharp stones dug from the creekbed,those wires, thin and strong,each the color of our choosing — mine the striping of bruises,yours the venom of snakes. So proud and ballistic we,makers of spears in the suburbs,makers... Continue Reading →
We laid snake bone by the rootsof the four trees fused at the waist. We dug tourmaline in the creekbed,dry that time of year and every yearbetween honeysuckle loam and wood rot. We sniffed skunk weed from the pitwhere the freakshow gathered and blazedup a bonfire tacked of pith and reeds,quick lit and soon extinguished.... Continue Reading →
Between one breath and the next,a slender pause at once puffed and collapsed,at once minute, at once stretched: The day you left home for the last time.The day that green house on a hillbecame a frame, a shingle, a lossand the blind shutting the eyeof a window, once yours, once mine,at once the nestle and... Continue Reading →
We called him Mr.Chins cuz he had four of ‘em.We called him The Chizzler and he hated it:Always chugged a brew before playing the rube,And taking the pot for himself. He whiffed a’ porkrinds and blackjack,And his lip ticked for the snow.He sucked down the Jaeg like a hunter,Too loose and obtuse with a bow:... Continue Reading →
I saw a picture of you today,that crow's foot smile, your eyesblue behind wisps of bang,arm around his shoulder,same old still,and I felt nothing. But then again,I was small fish to fry,and you laughed and said no,you are a whale and went awaythat Tiananmen spring. And there was fear in your voice,strung out, evacuated, long... Continue Reading →
