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August 31, 2018 Poetry

Two Poems

nv baker

Two Poems photo

Winter Anger

I really enjoy the place

when it’s like this

The streets are empty

The bars are less full

Everyone is for once

not trying to meet 

against each other

because there is snow

behind the glass

of an old TV set

who today feels

its good ol’ bones.


I’ve always been irreverent at exactly the smallest times

They call it an unkindness of ravens

or a conspiracy, a conspiracy of ravens

Drinking after a hangover

is tedious, maintenance drinking 

between bouts of nausea and the subtext headaches

The hangover is a week old and I’m nursing it at a funeral

It’s called a venue of vultures, when I was young I didn’t know that

I can remember the first time I admitted to myself

that it is quite hard to be a good man and mean it

but that no one really quits the ape anyways

A wake of buzzards sounds somber but dignified

and I wonder every time I throw a bottle away

if I failed the world by never recycling

“He was a good man,” we say 

“I never knew anything was wrong, did you?”

“He was a brave man,” we say

“You know, he didn’t advertise his pain”


image: Aaron Burch