Tanner Brockwell

what strange country is this
by Tanner Brockwell

what strange country is this
that is filled with thoughts of bliss
a lark a sigh the winging fly
crossed o’er the rampant sky

i have found the faeries trust
they gathered in an ought or must
and lording though the kingy rides
then to touch the crops or hides

they have this peculiar look
and if i crossed this bobbled brook
i made the warding quick and fast
that faery keep to their own at last

a spectral tide of shades and gloom
washed across the fields and moon
they’re only visiting for a while
then off they go for another mile

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for in the night
by tanner brockwell

for in the night
when fleeting thoughts in review
filled my head
and i was taken to rest
as for rest was in my bed
i thought of the briefest
tiniest mote
that fleeting moment
upon the logs
or blocks and then
the puffed white clouds
flying in a blue sky – sky
and then strolling
for together
and then we were
close and familiar
imagine wasn’t necessary
oh for the briefest
moments like jewels
that crystallized and enlightened

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alarum calamity
by tanner brockwell

alarum calamity
the strife of life
and love in this time
of dimmed sky and truth
so clearly felt palpate
the reverberations sudden
and wait between breaths
betwixt inward full and outward go
the space is filled with silence
for a time and what is this
the putative fit and start
like long beating heart
and ba-room-a-room away
the night returns
to silence but for
this punctuation of tumult

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