John Scott Traczyk Poems

The vanished travelers
are cultivating an undesigned virtue

they have followed overgrown carriageways
...

Again
with grainy rivers pooling rust
my legs dredge heavy on
through thickened mire
...

To leave completely and finally
without a tear
my eyes have now leathered
and will not look back
...

The wind is using the leaves to speak to me today
she is warning of the unborn dawn

I will use my bones for stairs
...