Saturday, January 5, 2013

2 poems by poet Glynn Monroe Irby

Glynn Monroe Irby has been a featured poet at previous FPL Poetry Series readings. He has been published in both the Houston and Austin poetry festival anthologies as well as Sol Magazine, Borderlands, Texas Poetry Review, and numerous others; Irby has been an invited poet to many reading venues in Texas, is a member of the Galveston Poets’ Roundtable, the Circle Way Poets, the Poetry Society of Texas, the Gulf Coast Poets, and was selected in 2006 as one of the “Bards of the Bayou.”


Picking Figs Before the Birds Come 

When blue northers came hard,
grafted fig limbs silently trembled.
I placed blankets across their crown
and fire barrels nearby.

Before spring rains came washing
through forest underbrush, I nourished
the first-year striplings, dispersed
phosphates on the ground.

While formless birds thrash
inside the hurricane fence line,
midday shadows have become short.

With promise of abundance,
I pick fruit from each offshoot
you collect in a sycamore basket,

I trust the word
of trees,

honor the voice
of harvest.

Glynn Monroe Irby

Geophysical Survey

Leather men move quietly through buttercups  
setting fuses into shot holes
drilled above the sulfur in the salt ridge
where charcoal timbers of previous egos
have fallen under the experiential plane
and columns of arcane memories
are cracked into lines along the spinal tracks
of shadow trains.

These rust-encrusted pipe-heads
once thrust into the brimstone blood heart,
spilling crimson onto the shallow bed
before condensing into these soft sun stones
that litter the wrinkled skin
and blend with the glaze of broken silica.

Explosions rattle contours of crow-footed gullies
and echo image the acoustical outline
of resources layered within my personality,
redefining my value by the simple motion
of a red pen pushing across the parchment
of my comprehension.

Glynn Monroe Irby

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