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 arcs silent - a slurryof cream, hunger and brownwinter kill hovered and plungedby moon and yellow porchlight.A black dog stiffens and sniffs -limbs give no... Continue Reading →
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, the mud from last night’s rain gave way and the new ruts stretched over the rise as dawn broke. Nothing to do but wait -... 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 →
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 car. For what is hope but an admissionThat what is is not enough. Take this -The assertion that on this day,In this winter, it is... 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 →
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 the fields, bags in the fields,stiffen as strata before next-Autumn yields. Smoke plumes flat from the chimneysof those at rest for a season at... Continue Reading →
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 →
