poetry by Eric Jennings

untitled (when the machines came)

u

we lay on the dreaming prairie
after the birth of mountains
killed forests in shadows of rain
absorbing memories from sand
through the temperate grass

your final contented sigh
released me from my troubled skin
to merge with a crimson river
where forgotten megafauna
bellies full with pignon reflect

tumultuous air and contained fire
once promised white-tail hart
and dread-locked oxen
a blessed end to their suffering
then the machines came

a plundered sovereignty
from striated muscle
chipped stone and plucked feathers
is a lonely legacy
adrift in a sea of sanctimony

you touched my hand
and the desert became real again
the void moon beckoned an empty course
channeling our beguiled minds
our return to sadness

about the author

Eric Jennings

I am a poet, an invocateur, an acccidental yogi and dabbler in patamysticism which is the spiritual branch of pataphysics.

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poetry by Eric Jennings