· the cultural society · » Devin Johnston

Departures

Devin Johnston — Thu, 04 Jan 2007 12:00:25 +0000

As wild hogs, fresh from a wallow,
scrape against the trunk
of a telephone pole while rushing past,
smearing their flanks
with creosote and leaving behind
stiff bristles and splattered mud;

or a cardinal intently crushes
carpenter ants in her bill,
then rubs their formic acid along
her coverts and tail,
staining that dim blush
with a streak of gloss:

you kiss hard, sure to find
some happiness to savor on the plane.

Sonogram

Devin Johnston — Thu, 04 Jan 2007 12:00:20 +0000

Sleek as fox fur

your message nudges through
a lattice of electrons,

Nemesis through Oort clouds

or luminous fern through fog,
evergreens lost at the edge:

imaginary gains.

Devin Johnston, contributor

Devin Johnston — Tue, 23 Mar 2004 16:00:56 +0000

The Hedge

Devin Johnston — Sat, 01 Feb 2003 16:00:10 +0000

Before and after storms
she sought

the head
or privet hedge —

a thorny glass
in which

fear might find
a semi-private roost,

plumage ruffled
after rain;

or beak
expectantly

tipped toward
the sky —

a spoon in tea.
Needs descend

through film
from cloud to fence,

fence to branch,
and then —

entanglements,
she thought.

To Whom It May Concern

Devin Johnston — Mon, 04 Nov 2002 16:00:30 +0000

    Yew and eye
      and eye and yew
    soak up the dark
      while you are gone.
    This shade unfurled
      from root to bough
    was planted here
      when I was born.

    Within its reach
      I shut my eye
    to eye of day
      and day’s return
    as birds depress
      Selectric keys
    addressed To Whom
      It May Concern.

    It may concern
      Saint Augustine,
    October hail,
      the falling Dow,
    or any poor
      reflective thing
    but yew and eye
      and eye and yew.

Doubtful Weather

Devin Johnston — Mon, 04 Nov 2002 16:00:24 +0000

Cyclone system,
you star in a film —

disturbing
elements excite

a false rapport
in various substances:

shadows shrivel
in the park,

metal turns to ice,
and plastic bags to birds.

With hook and eye
unhooked,

a shutter knocks
against my thoughts —

to punctuate
and interrupt.

With a rush
of wings

a dark-green shade
descends;

and then it goes
away again.

Influence

Devin Johnston — Tue, 01 Jan 2002 16:00:43 +0000

Smoke gets into everything:
bitter honey,

autumn’s distillation, bears
an aftertaste

of cats
and muscatel.

When privet
dominates, hives

disperse in sparks
through private darkness,

filling cells
with evidence of elsewhere:

spores of cockle,
rush, and dock;

contraband,
perfume, and punk.

Even you (asleep
and breathing deeply)

open from the core
to all that you are not.

Distant Warnings (after Catullus)

Devin Johnston — Sat, 01 Dec 2001 16:00:56 +0000

Trembling veil, my limit —
whether I plumb the Marianas Trench
as waves of doubt thunder
miles above;

or brush a stand of birch
with sheathes of rain, or net
a white noddy adrift
on beds of kelp;

whether and whither the mind
wanders in dreamy disquietude,
asleep of a prairie noon
as buckboards creak,

prepared to risk the latitudes
of chance and trance —
to the Querent convey
a warning word:

awake the world, the skin
is supple and resilient —
susceptible to stroke
or sudden heat.

But with a glance this veil
will fall as when a flower falls
glanced by the iron edge
of a passing plow.