Winter Kill
It is 4 a.m.,and a black dog breakscrust on old snow – stumbles.And a full moon loomsto reveal just easta crackling of limbs felledby gathered frosts and westa barn owl…
Poetry by Devon Brock
It is 4 a.m.,and a black dog breakscrust on old snow – stumbles.And a full moon loomsto reveal just easta crackling of limbs felledby gathered frosts and westa barn owl…
Steve had a blue tarp and two doe tags so we were certain that when he returned we would know. When he split down 425 in his late-model red Silverado,…
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…
From once to somehow to somewhere,The brittle language of hope cracksBetween my teeth, much as iceCracks beneath my boots as I,Unhurried on a wax gibbous morn,Make my way to the…
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…
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…
Sun-dogs lope over the bloat of a rise,and the nocturnal kills freeze in the ditcheswaiting Spring’s decay, crows or an inmate’s spade. What is strewn there: husk in the fields,cans…
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…