Poetry by Devon Brock.
But for the pheasant’s coppered wing the fieldsin sculpted snows ne’er bring the promised yieldsnor pleasures found ‘til light does crest the riseat dawn and ambers claw upon the eyes. To wake and wonder here among such thingsas iridescence glides there down and bringsunto these smothered lands and frostbit handsa hope that winter’s scoff no... Continue Reading →
It is not the sapling or bit snowthat scrapes the window, coaxing,Come out little boy, come out -Come out where the sting wind blowsCome out where the wind plays a saplingas a rube to scratch its bidding on a window.That little life left tight against the foundationmissed in the pruning now the dim wittedaccomplice to... Continue Reading →
The orange slim line of the chopper overheadMeans only one thing here - certainty.Certainty that northeast of where I standIs a near departure,Perhaps wedged behind a wheel.I will count the minutesAs I count thunders and strikes.I can do nothing else. For in the next thick hourIn the next thick breath,A mother may weep a son,A... Continue Reading →
Come all ye winter brigands,Strip these tainted fairland woodsOf their baubles and wares.Take what plump fruits remainIn glistened fists and bind,Bind the spruce tightly -Such prideful beasts these trees. Come mock these captive summers,Taunt them white in the forest,White in the glade and fled,To the shrill and fluted wind,To crackling beats on wire and limb.Such... Continue Reading →
Whiteout on 250,shallow shouldered,deep ditched,straight as dopeand piped icing.The wind knows the waybut canters,canters and dragsthis crate south,south into the beamsof some some othersad fuck bent to the clockand near death for a dime,for a mortgage,and some otherscrewed adherence. Image: Aditya Vyas on Unsplash
In this winter called Leviathan,gorged be the meddles of menlurched there, rustbound in iceand enzyme. And all that arcs over, whetherthe crust limbed trees, or the whitetresses of sleet pinged on our heads,mocks like a maul. Roused and thus cursed by the makersof beasts and things craving anvilsand the nails of undoing, undoing,undoing us all.... Continue Reading →
Weathermen are pushing the storm. Nobody noteworthy died today. Eight to twelve on the Twins. Havoc on the plains and cancellations pending. No travel advised. The schools flaked out before the first wind blew, and the office is gutted parental. Milks are shoveled in carts, pricey waters too. Croutons got hoarded like hardtack, and only... Continue Reading →
Come winter the woods will forget my boots, Expunge my passage, deny me familiar, As if I never traveled there, climbed there The oaks, as low birches lurch among The poisons - ivy and sumac. And how is it that the sun finds blockage There, but not the muting snow, unbroken Over the bones of... Continue Reading →
