Poems from Ben Ray
Bump. Bump. Bump.
The tarmac winces inaudibly as I step
Down its coal-black ribbon of road
With apples in the bag.
Bump. Bump. Bump.
A...
Dry leaves rattle, like
Old men’s breath
Boughs creaking, joints
Complaining copiously, arms growing
Strangely heavier, as they retreat
To...
The hill wears the road like a belt
Fat forested belly sagging at the waist,
Stretching the tarmac like elastic over the bloated land.
It...
In the slow-go, wind-blow of the early November afternoon
I walk down to the woodshed, and begin to saw.
At first it is slow going. The...
Letters, my love, I have longed for your dulcet tones
Like a lemming dreams of Dover Cliffs.
I tingle for your alphabetical arms
Around my...