Abraham Smith
from "Surgencies"



god for swamp


my thoughts



now hear swallows returning

soundless but somehow i feel

wingwinds feel wingwinds

little infant shudders

of sipped air out a

shelved book how

long reach down 

ya buncha paper sniffers callin

the operator for a quick

chomp on the temp

of april soil



prod a gill trace this

grace light lightly

go draw fawner's hearts

on old white wash

barn walls you are

not supposed to drawl

no hearts



suppose pose

in it go numb

skin on a crumb

clean to whom

wren nest in the raspberries

by mites overcome

lint mouse rice teeth

pickle seed salty

for dream jam sake do

reach around



where gumption

went out

with the metal money

comin in

for the bulktank

thought throw back out and did

heavy thoughts

make wheels walk

like world fresh lambs



repeat after me

the adventures of creek sand

as told by fox

atrot along deerroad

dogfacelick bowlin balls away



i know you well 

low on touches

begin to glow

speed of light

a little like

paring your toenail

back to bloody



in a hospital exam room

ever get to feelin

paper on the planktablechair

same company ring a ding

droll butcher callin

say now my roll's

rollin faster than

moonshine mainline

that banjo picker



and to sit it sounds like fire ears

have light habit of

tying things together

loose and true and fair and fine

but there oh so there

brother of mine



just settin here

suckin on a bucket of freckles

creeko siptime afters

them gemstone hopeless sandy plays

slippin down guts of foxes

called by name of nowish

to look away

toward junked

combines haybines

crawlin with milkweed ticks

hawkweed ticks burdock ticks

and good try sheep skulls

the dogs drag up the field

and the kids kick back down



enjoy a shout

toss rocks not well

with slushes web fingers

from ditches into ponds

geometry ecstasy gently these

platelet paper crane face wing ices



spring peeper springs

having climbed in

the rotten mattress

unswept woods

giant leg log

gentle fizzle fall last

we touch things

just to know they are

little diabetic coprolites

secret sweet lymphs of the wrack



but what was more soothin

than the librarian's

black hair parted with a cakeknife

her way of speak breathin

felt cloth begonia soffits

now i'll let you in my snowglobe

toboggan hotdogbun



stampin too stampin too

like she was stammerin noses

on puppies before they was

even a gleam unsubway the sardine

and blowsy hamper dust around

burns out old touches by sky bounces

slang for love's slow hold

Found In Volume 52, No. 05
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Abraham Smith
About the Author

Abraham Smith hails from Ladysmith, Wisconsin. His recent poetry collections include Insomniac Sentinel (Baobab Press, 2023) and Dear Weirdo (Propeller Books, 2022). Away from his desk, he improvises poems inside songs with the Snarlin' Yarns: It Never Ends (DBS/Don Giovanni, 2023) and Break Your Heart (Dial Back Sound, 2020). Smith lives in Ogden, Utah, where he is associate professor of English and co-director of Creative Writing at Weber State University.