Three poems by Scott Thomas Outlar

Of Gasping and Grasping


I saw a cross in the sky
was that Jesus Christ or pollution

I think it’s starting to tear
all the fabric of autumn has loosened

You scried the depths of the pool
came up wild-eyed with spells of reflection

It’s like the birth of a prayer
breathing, bleeding, and begging the question

 
Headlight Fever

I wasted all my venom
too early

now I’m a stuffed koala 
bathing in the sun

baking eucalyptus 

laughing at the world
spin round and round

You told me every flash point 
needs flint
to spark

now my hair is on fire
rip off the covers

rest in the ash of your laurels

waiting for the lesson
to burn at will

 
Scattered Ages

Snapshots of mood & emotion

The mouth of death
and its inevitable yawn

Plagues throughout time
our emergent rise from the muck & mud

My ancestors didn’t starve in the cold
before passing on their swagger

and neither should I
succumb to a sin not my own

nor suffer the karma
that’s been cleansed from my soul

I caught 18 falling leaves this autumn
each one blessed with a wish still to make

Every yesterday failed to dig my grave
tomorrow remains a promise of the wind

Scott Thomas Outlar lives and writes in the suburbs outside of Atlanta, Georgia. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He guest-edited the 2019, 2020, and 2021 Western Voices editions of Setu Mag. His podcast, Songs of Selah, airs weekly on 17Numa Radio and features interviews with contemporary poets, artists, musicians, and health advocates. More about Outlar’s work can be found at 17Numa.com. 

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