Bryan Harford Poems

And there it was, the remnants of
The lord's birth;
His holy flesh, the Turkey crown,
Sprouts, carrots and a little Sobriety,
...

Four black crows,
Standing fast,
Barring my way.
Racking my brains
...

A Bright, autumn day that sparkled and
Glowed just seasonally so.
Cold biting northerly winds,
Golden leaves
...

How was this so?
To be there and yet not,
Sleep driving and then walking
Within this mortal scrapyard.
...