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Poetry Magnum Opus

hands


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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.


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It was there when I woke,
between two clock hands-

 

The startling opening image could be a poem in itself.

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  • 2 weeks later...
David W. Parsley

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

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