Circle One
those desolate pastures
the wind secures the dancing wattles
unshaped and rusting,
bark fraying from their trunks,
a lack of coloration is no irregularity,
stuck in the line of fire
as it electrifies the buried voices
of ancestors who create captives,
binding the collar from the body to the neck,
beneath the continual storm, all being fixed to chains
out at Woodstock the smoke descends,
the doused air dives into itself
becomes a spire of ash rising—
the light peers through cloud
where human flesh seeds the inferno.
- Robbie Coburn 2016
The Harrowing
the body an inferno;
buried ancestors' voices rising
through the spire of the neck—
electrifying
flesh into fire.
captive in those human pastures
being dives into itself—
descends through binding seed
becomes the light.
- Michele Seminara 2016
These two poems are from a collaborative chapbook, Scar to Scar, just released through PressPress. Scar to Scar
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