Poetry: Wolf-Lieberman by Stuart Buck

silhouette of wolf standing on ground

wolf-lieberman

as the news anchor tells us it is time, we can think of nothing better to do than to watch deep impact

the sky drops to an awful stillborn pink          tia leone refuses a seat on the last helicopter
a man burns alive in front of his daughter    elijah woods winds through traffic on his bike
we are thrown across the living room

morgan freeman asks us to remember the fallen

there is a redness. aching. birth.                                 endcredits.

i am turning to you as the softer parts of me blend with the wallpaper
i am turning to you as we clot in each other’s throats

Stuart Buck is a BOTN/BIFFY50/Pushcart Prize nominated poet and artist living in North Wales. His second book ‘Become Something Frail’ was released to critical acclaim on Selcouth Station Press in 2019. When he is not writing or reading poetry, he likes to cook, juggle and listen to music. He suffers terribly from tsundoku – the art of buying copious amounts of books that he will never read.

Twitter: @stuartmbuck

An interview with Stu Buck of Bear Creek Gazette

photo by Ray Hennessy on Unsplash

2 Poems by Peach Delphine: Coyote Song & 84 (any scar)

Coyote Song

Not yet dead already ash,

Already invisible, unknowable,

Smell the sea just beyond the pines,

Hear the wind combing out salt Marsh,

Osprey call, mullet get eaten,

Gather up what you can

We will flee with falling light, with coyote song,

Emptiness of waves welcome us, mangrove

Conceal our passing,

Not yet dead, already gone,

Sleep with one foot against the door,

It’s your neighbors that will come for you,

After coffee, eggs and bacon,

What my father never knew,

The sharpest blade

Is for cutting sorrow.

84 (Any Scar)

Cutting was the secret language

of moon and moss

textured layers of shadow

without day or spark

oaks hold themselves penultimate

ancient in a landscape of erosion

cabbage palms shaggy

with my supplications

sheaves of paperwork

endless recitations of symptoms

a midden of discarded words

what we cast off

wave tumbled round

sea is my only certainty

liquid incandescence

saltier than blood

smoother than any scar

Bio: Peach Delphine is a queer poet from Tampa, Florida. Infatuated with what remains of the undeveloped Gulf coast.

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