THE SWARM When night passed and came the morning blackbirds enveloped the grass, smothering green moss across the street, moving as a synchronized cluster of fluttering wings. I switched my position in bed to gain a better view, squatting on the mattress while staring out the window as the dark wave gained a new tide… shrieking and soaring as one blanket mass headed straight toward me. For a brief moment, I feared that the yawning grave was calling me back to the dust, dirt, and ash from whence I once came; but then, in unison, the wave broke, the aggressive wings grew calm, and the swarm settled down as it landed again, this time in my front yard. I exhaled with a smile. The beauty of chaos shifted as order was reclaimed in my respite - the reaper had granted a reprieve; and though I now realise that he will surely one day come hunting for me, whether with a murmuration of blackbirds, a flock of starlings, a flutter of sparrows, an unkindness of ravens, a murder of crows, a wake of vultures, or one-on-one, all alone, with a scythe in hand, at least for the moment I can lay back safely and soundly in my warm bed, knowing that while I dream about the future it will be the worms outside in the cold that serve as today’s sacrifice to the cycle. FATHOMED PERCEPTIONS You are neon electric diamond gypsy thunder You are passion incarnate dreaming whispered caresses You are focus ignited dancing fiery atom You are depth personified dazzling magic moments You are light ablaze drifting smoky signals You are crisis averted dangling lusty kisses You are power raptured daunting crystal visions You are truth pulsed damning fallen systems You are peace perfected demanding creative explosion You are sight opened drenching weeping eyes You are flesh experienced dispersed energy released ALPHA (ADRENALINE) /OMEGA (SATURATION) I saw you blinking/pulsing/glowing on the far side of chaos with whispers of light guiding/cajoling ships out at sea to come home and roost on the shoreline (of your sweet salvation). I heard you singing/weeping/wailing from a ruptured sky with diamonds of fire torching/igniting hearts of the dead to burst forth into life with yellow resurrection (of your primal passion). I felt you loving/lusting/longing in the empty bed of loneliness with purest intentions of night exciting/enticing thoughts of the truth to dream their way to flesh and taste the core (of your open bleeding heat).
Scott Thomas Outlar is originally from Atlanta, Georgia. He now lives and writes in Frederick, Maryland. His work has been nominated multiple times for both the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He guest-edited the Hope Anthology of Poetry from CultureCult Press as well as the 2019-2023 Western Voices editions of Setu Mag.
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