Two Poems, by Luke Bradford

  

dragonflies
 

Ireland fogs.
Foreign lads
signaled for
fire and logs.

Fog in alders,
a fiord’s glen.
A golden fir’s
ring of dales.
 
Dragonflies,
soaring, fled
a finer gold’s
island forge:

Fiord angels,
rain-elf gods,
refolding as
gears infold.

  

bees

 

bugs that buzz; tiny, 

busy nuns that hide 

that Lady deep amid 

some waxy maze; that

wing over your park, 

your farm, your plot, 

your lawn; that call 

upon each iris, lily,

posy, vine, plum tree, 

palm tree, pear tree, 

lime; that draw from 

each that rosy wine;

that come home, legs 

dyed with pale gold 

dust, then buzz, dozy, 

into some cozy room

 

 

 

 

Luke Bradford is an experimental poet living in Brooklyn, New York. His latest collection of constrained poetry, Glossology, is available for purchase as a book or for free download as a PDF at lukebradford.xyz/glossology. His work has been published in print and online by Penteract Press, Timglaset, ToCall magazine, No Press, and more.