Tag Archives: Sean Devlin

Gazing at Gold

Rarely can I recall a takeoff. This time my head bobbed – I assume – bumping slightly off the white plastic wall and window frame until a flat pace came. Alberta was warm that October – the prairies divided into … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Edges

You notice edges after the worst of things Like battered sides of a dresser – The metal ringlets of your jeans clip corners while on route to another room The whack of ringed hand on it, by accident or during … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Rib Cage

If my chest was opened under white light would a falcon’s indigo wings batter against my ribs with eyes sharpened, intent and mindful of its raptor roots or would a parakeet’s cotton skeleton lie sullen and bored, echoes of its … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment