Poetry by Scott Thomas Outlar

Courtesy: Creative Commons
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.

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
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



Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

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