Saturday 9 April 2022

Five Poems by David Alec Knight

 


The Bible Black Rail Bridge

I step on every crack
of the lacerated sidewalk

and it liberates my secondary
vision from my mind's chaos.

The water of the river
is a swift surreal mauve.

Under this new favourite sky
the Bible-black rail bridge

radiates a shake-shaking --
the overdue train is coming.

After such awhile, the last
caboose, yellow with black

is coming, indecipherably fast
and I know I must grasp it --

I feign trust, and reach but I
am rueful, taught my limit.


Light, I am So Dark


Light? I am darkening
as I writhe before you.
I feign what passes
for illumination, I scribe
for more than the scars.
I ghost laugh to spite
the past light lost me.
But now you are light,
you are illumination.

Oh light, oh illumination,
when will I tell you?


The Eagle And The Loon


An eagle and a loon
cut across the sky

in my eyes, above
this place, in these

days of red fogged terror.
Clouds melt raining, make

a mean surface as fierce
spiral casts shadows

on the river, distort
the doppleganger sky.

The eagle kisses, sharply,
the neck of the loon --

ejaculation of arterial crimson.
The eagle cannot laugh.

The loon cannot cry out.
Red infinity gyres from its plunge.


Let Me Talk Of Sorrow


Let me talk of sorrow.
I will not smile unhappy
If I am ruin, I am ruin
and I give back the sorrow
forced upon me, return
the absence of hope.
I laugh to the left.
I, in art, spin out a sphere.
I want allure, charm, passion --
want strength and wisdom;
accept fragility, need, weakness.

Let me talk of sorrow: behind
each word hides another.


At Dusk Like A Dawn


Slowly, at dusk like a dawn,
a hidden, unwritten song
everyone forgets the name of,
parts a storm for the good feeling.

Pull me to the shore: I feel a barge.
Fury of love do not pound the water.
Pull me to the shore: I am your barge.

I have sat at a desk and dreamed
no questions not knowing why,
I have crawled on 3 a.m.
pavement of highway,
been looked at
and simplified:
it is freedom to feel
alive at your scent.
Always left reeling,
I would not bother
with their mumbling
like crows in parking lots
on garbage day.

Leaves fall through your window,
collect in our laps interwoven.
You stare at me to stare at you,
our eyes sharing the fire.

Outside, distant sirens prowl.
We reach for the first dark
and our desires make light.




David Alec Knight grew up in Chatham, Ontario, Canada. David has had many poems printed in American and Canadian journals and anthologies. Recent poems have appeared in print and/or on-line in Verse Afire, The Rye Whiskey Review, Cajun Mutt Press, The Lothlorien Poetry Journal and in By The Wishing Tree - A Canadian Poetry Anthology. In 2021, David was recipient of The Ted Plantos Memorial Award for Poetry. His first book of poetry is The Heart Is A Hollow Organ (Cranberry Tree Press, 2021). David works in healthcare.


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