Eratio


 

 

 

Two Poems

 

Jared Schickling

 

 

 

 

The Sun Fell

 

 

the sun fell

into a lamp

the sun fell

 

into coffee

into food

the sun fell

 

the sun fell

into the street

into sentences

 

the sun fell

into colorful worms

into cellulose and water

 

and a plague

the sun fell

the sun

 

fell

and could not get up

the sun fell

 

into fields

the sun fell

passed windows

 

the sun fell

on my parts

on a big outing

 

the sun fell

with the rain

 

 

 

 

Hum

 

 

a driven river flew the big humming bird

in its annual passing had nothing to do with it

 

never thought he was in the mountains splayed

a mystery like a cloud shade, opposite bank

 

a day is reporting a brain is perched

their own sorry name watching lucky heads

 

drawn, to what could wish all terrain vehicles

to live, more intensely emptied and silent

 

no rattle rattles imaginary, known

a name become real remains yet imaginary

 

as orange ants were biting blinded in visions

the endless visions ever diminishing visions

 

on the way into what was there to say

shrinking mountains under that sun

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jared Schickling’s recent writing includes the books Guides, Translators, Assistants, Porters: a polyvocal American epic minus the details (BlazeVOX, 2018), The Mercury Poem (2017) and Province of Numb Errs (2016), and he edited A Lyrebird: Selected Poems of Michael Farrell (BlazeVOX, 2017).  He lives in Lockport, NY and edits Delete Press and The Mute Canary, publishers of poetry. 

 

 


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