Poem: Basin

This poem recently appeared in Danse Macabre #72 (Oubliette).

The basin is an allegory for ... questioning stuff.

Best,

Owl


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Basin

where sand pulls shawls over shoes,
and the moon brags louder than the blued sun.
you can kick up anything, brute sorrow or hate.

logic scrabbles
in the weird oblong of the rocks.
where birds are gourmands scrounging for glazed eyes.

it all looks like water because there is none.
heat plays oracle in armored shine.
where scorpions are courtiers

and the falchion of red dawn
parches the cuts in cracked lips.
the oldest omega where

blue-green salts pulse varicose,
thwart the strain of losing knees.

to struggle is to become the desert,
corrupted as a horny toad.

where you can’t go back because
the beginning is in front. to turn
is to elude your origin

and forget.



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