Author: David Wright

VENOM, delivered by fangs, raises question of fangs in the heart.
STRAP myself to mast, stop ears, close eyes, and I may avert the
SIRENs. Yet, assault withstood, heart may still pump a fatal toxin.
ENACT and win the war with external foe–there remains the war of self.

FLOOR given a last mopping: shiny, clear, before the
SMOKE pools, when the wheeler-dealers gather and make this the
TERRA of adults, who are confident—unlike the children,
CHIDEd away last minute—that they own the room, the night, the smoke.

BANAL hours, weary days, self rarely sending
FORTH tendrils of curiosity or joy or longing. The turn to
BOOZE, with moments that briefly lighten, but
UNSET the anchor, soul ship drifting into banal hours, weary days.

EASEL: this one is about painting, the glorious
STAIN of colors slowly spreading as the work proceeds. Now we
DODGE something, a jarring word,
THONG—we weren’t planning to discuss underwear.

SHOWY beasts beheld on the steppe, striped and bounding, then a
LAGER under the stars, dreaming a time of tribal
CHANT, of hunting to subsist, of nature’s bounty, its
FAUNA seeming the sum of all curses and blessings.

WORSE for wear after long trek through woodlands
FAUNA haunted, so rarely slept for long, now finally enough water,
SPOUT of fountain signalling society’s every benefit.
FREAK-thoughts they seem, to brave the wilds, when offered clean water instead.

ONION, potatoes, broth, and barley,
SHONE to hungry minds at day’s end, beckoning from a hut on a
KNOLL. Thus, a meal might
PARRY strife, soup binding what dissolves our ties.

SIGMA, sign of sums
SHALT be employed on
SPREE of building, shaping.
EAGLE cares not, soars and sees.