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Poetry Magnum Opus

Wind horse


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Dreaming in the trenches, I caught the red moon and placed it into the eye of the the wind-horse. We flew-following the smoke of history, resting in a field we gave shelter to poppies from souls buoyed on Christly tears as they made clean the red moon.

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  • 1 month later...
David W. Parsley

Barry, I too like the brevity of this piece.  I confess that for me, though it does indeed evoke something elemental like Native American myth seemingly embodied in the wind-horse and red moon, other prominent equally-vivid images such as poppies, trenches, and smoke, induce me to see it more as a freshly imagined version of McRae's "In Flanders Field."  Perhaps we cannot possibly experience as that author did, we can dread the possibility of potential recurrence of such extravagant violence, apocalyptically figured in this moon turned to blood.

Beautiful and Sobering,
 - David

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  • 4 weeks later...

I am not familiar with NA mythology but the poem gives me a surreal feeling the equivalent of abstract from the visual arts. The power of the poem, to me, is in the mystery it evokes.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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