Jeff Harrison


Babylon is falling to rise no more

A lamb, am I, to witness Babylon is falling to rise no more; a lamb to
witness as a cat may look at a king; with the descent of Her last tower
Babylon, I'll claim, disappeared hugely with such a burst my ear has a
wolf's pang for its like again.

Phoebus Wreathed

Would there a wreath that would reprove fires: I hold this clime, Phoebus,
as mine, announces its inscription. The worldly will allow, regarding this
scene: Nature charms me as much as fable. The wreath announces of the fires:
soft weigh my cares on this scale.

   At a stroke the figure of Phoebus,
   And the figure of Phoebus was with crackling torches.
   Had they but dimmed to a maiden light!
   They are the interior form of Aetna, certainly!

I have disported with other storms, announces Phoebus, I hate a lair, but I
will be caverned in this wreath and walk beneath its boughs.

Monumental

When asked the breath of those words poetry escorts, still you show
slumbers, graven image, as though Anacreon's your oblivion, and these
silences come from no other courier's hand.

Jeff Harrison had poems in Otoliths issues one, three, four, five, and six. He has publications from MAG Press, Writers Forum, Persistencia Press, and Furniture Press. He has two e-books at xPress(ed), and one at Blazevox. His poetry has appeared in Sentence: a Journal of Prose Poetics, Moria, Nerve Lantern, Xerography, MiPOesias, NOON: journal of the short poem, Big Bridge and elsewhere. He has an interview blog with Allen Bramhall called Antic View (note blog installments #97 and #128).

 
 
 
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