eclipse Posted May 4, 2016 Share Posted May 4, 2016 It was there when I woke, between two clock hands- the bullet fired, containing part of me when I drifted through two warring bands. I had to accord with damned genocide, then slide the moon down a barrel of a gun and wait, here it is above the ranch, I have my hands on the horns of cattle, death has his hands on the sun and moon. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
badger11 Posted May 6, 2016 Share Posted May 6, 2016 It was there when I woke, between two clock hands- The startling opening image could be a poem in itself. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
David W. Parsley Posted May 15, 2016 Share Posted May 15, 2016 Yes, that is a nice opening image. This piece is what Robert Bly might call an example of leaping poetry. Interesting comparison of the types of horns you and Death have your hands on. Even for you, Barry, this one has some rather wide displacements of action around the theme. Fascinating, - Dave Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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