Issue 14 – Summer 2008 – Brent House

Brent House


Augur of Wright

Sorghum pours drone through assurance of pipes
                                     to quell a rally of sympathy
& a Georgian child wants music flowing
                                     sweet as stamen incised
                                     from honeysuckle & wisteria
petals pestled into morning robes of resurrection
                                     come down from the hill.

A memory of a simple cottage gone from the square

& restored by the gifts of a hand-carved chancel
                                     & a chancel window of old
English glass & a new roof inverted by ship-makers
                                     & walls of beaded boards
filled with the remains of elders transformed simply.

Such great loss & relative little evidence
                                     dents in the hardwood
                                     an overseer dead
dead in a let him save himself March
                                     what so rose in December
                                     only fragrant memory
in June when the sea has reached to the lake once more
                                     when mentors pass a smoldering
                                     over the river & marred passes.




Augur of Blackberries

Scars   the teeth of briars

measure   as much as stain   seed   a bucket filled with urgency

awaiting the cover of cream                                                                                                                            the hollow


sacred to the sweet reduction   rolled bread    soaking in the drips of broken bearings                           found

under the line   & away from the tromp   in our lost   & found fecund past

the rows we stretch   not seeking greener pastures   but finding sweet flows

below the barbing rows.



Augur of Flailing

The mantic threnody of the mockingbird mourned from a plum branch
                                                                                                                   a cruel hope passing
a cruel boy pointing at exposures of white breast
                                                                                                         & resounding strange fruit
his copper seeds arching imperfect through the air
                                                                                             eyes following a slow progression

Lord   I lament   quail with remorse of intransigent sin
                                                                                          & touch light still flailing by reverbs
damp is the hole from which I pluck the bead
                                                                                       the chamber ruddles with shot return
a body held quivers with terrene blood

Lord   you mistake me much   for I lament
                                                                                            this medley so dueled by asperity
& carry such parabolic loss in scaffoid palms
                                                                              as meager penance for an arbitrary disgrace
enclose true resonance in the rooted soil
                                                                                           wailing clods into wrenching veins.



Brent House grew up in Necaise, Mississippi, where he raised cattle and watermelons on the family farm. His poetry has appeared in or is forthcoming in Colorado ReviewCream City ReviewDenver QuarterlyThird Coast, and elsewhere. He earned his M.F.A. from Georgia College & State University.