Peter Black Poems

And when I'm far from human hands
Metal beams; wires with electric heads,
Where worlds of grass hide uncut feet;
Pine and oak champion softer seeds
...

Yellow flowers with petals that slip
Up with a sheen like four spread yellow lips,
For a day or night is all before gone.
They swelter and purse under the noon sun;
...

During Fiery summer the red ants swarm
Digging tunnels beneath grass: form high holds,
That mark the dangers in the grass off roads,
While I drink from pickle jars,
...

In the winter we ate oats and grains,
Baked loaves on the hearth,
Counting our wood knowing it would not change,
Sleeping close together while outside,
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Where the ground is littered with pine needles;
Scoped: some dried brown; others still living green
Bendy strings; when chewed have an orange taste,
Cushion feet towards a forgotten place,
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Sometimes I expect to get these big pops,
Cheers when I talk, people jumping up
Calling, 'I feel the exact same way, '
Carry me on shoulders and mimic my thoughts.
...

I take my finger and follow the line
Of a vulture in blue, direct and on point,
Seeing out something that has or will die,
For a moment a black cloud chokes the light;
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The chaos of her blood could set you free.
And when she touched you, your soul awakes.
Hand to hand, energy is created,
Imprinting on the dimensional plane;
...

I

Memphone: priest of children to be dead
Made his way to the top of death hands hill.
...

Ten days I lied in the field nearly dead.
Struck by a blade, an honorable death;
Yet, no blood ran from my wound soon it healed.
Apollo, laid his light over my corpse,
...