After a good round of revision (and a long break from posting), I’m fairly content with this poem. I spent a good while last night arranging lines, and I hope it was worth it. Notice the two-three dimeter (except in two particular lines in the last stanza). Anyway, enough talk:



Dogs rifle through arms
of grass, murmuring.
Cars slouch idle, shells
of men, on all fours.

Fuel from rusted cans
marks the twisting veins.
Fog fills every hole;
muted searchlights roam,

unnoticed, the beasts
of men jerk parched noses
skyward, seeing thunder
and hearing its source.


This poem has been accepted to an online literary journal, Word Catalyst. It appeared in the February 2010 issue at Check it out!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s