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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