Saturday 5 November 2016

1 Poem by Steven Hartung


Self-defeat is a bloodied owl
Calling down the moon to reckon the sun

This owl perches on Minerva's conscience
Stirring ashes from Methuselah's closet
Spreading a silent salient doom

Fine grey dust crutched by moonbeams
Buried sunshine beneath the ocean
Hidden accounts, quagmires of consciousness

Causing sleep to blacken this pillowcase
As she brings the dreams
Of swimming less and less and less


Steven Hartung received a creative writing degree from Michigan State University.  He lives outside Richmond, Virginia.

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