Bradley Harrison
Gone Aubade
Collecting slosh from inkblot clouds.
Spilling sunlight the walls and bougainvillea vines.
A house against the sea. Naked light
through curtains
torn at the seams.
The season still swollen, doors are left open.
I took my boat out to pasture.
I lost my fingers sifting mounds of corroding diesel motors.
Orchards sag with creaking boughs.
The breath of a drowned man refuses to leave.
Bradley Harrison is a graduate of the Michener Center for Writers at the University of Texas in Austin. His work can be found in New American Writing, Forklift Ohio, West Branch, Best New Poets 2012 and elsewhere. His chapbook Diorama of a People, Burning is available from Ricochet Editions (2012). He is currently a student in the doctoral program at the University of Missouri.
Return to November 2014 Edition
Collecting slosh from inkblot clouds.
Spilling sunlight the walls and bougainvillea vines.
A house against the sea. Naked light
through curtains
torn at the seams.
The season still swollen, doors are left open.
I took my boat out to pasture.
I lost my fingers sifting mounds of corroding diesel motors.
Orchards sag with creaking boughs.
The breath of a drowned man refuses to leave.
Bradley Harrison is a graduate of the Michener Center for Writers at the University of Texas in Austin. His work can be found in New American Writing, Forklift Ohio, West Branch, Best New Poets 2012 and elsewhere. His chapbook Diorama of a People, Burning is available from Ricochet Editions (2012). He is currently a student in the doctoral program at the University of Missouri.
Return to November 2014 Edition