Poetry by Devon Brock.
She hung there, below the silkwith a bundle. Later, a hunk below the faucetremained, drained and quite empty. My coat hangs on a hook,husked and silver-fishedon the thrash end of a string, raggedas ignorance and just as ill-cautioned. Too many turns, this earth,cloud-cocooned and sucked belowthe spindled legs of our mother. She waits there, black... Continue Reading →
Published in "La Piccioletta Barca" — Issue 19 — May 2020 https://picciolettabarca.com/issues/issue-19/come-april-silk/
Then again next Summer -next wet, fat, loud Summer,I may find on a spider’s loom,the fly that tormented the windowall through Winter, Spring,released in the first airing -when mud and manurewafted like mutton, like cabbage,like all the bitter greens and old meatsthat stink a house lockedagainst the weathers. She’s the yellow of melons -all hunger... Continue Reading →
Was thinking of you as I pissed the chardonnay out, black exile to sewage. Was thinking of you and the trusts - thrice taken that garner no warmth, but shudder my torso in the steam of it. And then, Soft-bodied and filament, a spider reared up, pin-legged, from behind the tank, and topped the unset... Continue Reading →
