<\/p>\n
The owl was eating something I could not see. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jeremy Voigt<\/a> has published poems in Willow Springs,<\/a> Beloit Poetry Journal<\/em>, and recently in Post Road, <\/em>as well as in the chapbook Neither Rising nor Falling.<\/em> <\/a>He is the editor of Cab Literary Magazine,<\/a> a philanthropic literary journal, and lives with his wife and three kids in Bellingham, WA.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n After Looking at Paul Klee\u2019s Ad Marginem The owl was eating something I could not see. I had come out early and it was time to go back. I wanted one more turn where the trees opened in … Continue reading
\nI had come out early and it was time to go back.
\nI wanted one more turn where the trees opened
\nin their damp, green glaze to the flat tongue
\nof field. My feet on the gravel path felt good
\nand the day, to be sure, would be difficult.
\nI made it within five feet of the bird before it looked
\nat me and I thought it would lift, but it remained
\nfaithful to its indifference.
\n………………………………….<\/span>Out of an old chaos
\nthrough the trees and sun his mate arrived
\nand landed ten feet above. They did not care
\nif I moved, or breathed. I was lost trying to keep
\nmy eyes. He finished the meal and I left
\nto return later that week, searching beyond the edges
\nof trails in the leaves and mud for the orb
\nof what was eaten\u2014the impossible to digest.
\nI want to cut it open as I once did in a classroom,
\nto see the inside of what was on the inside.
\nI find nothing. When I look up I cannot see the sky,
\njust boughs moving from green to green to black.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"