by: Zebulon Huset Anthropocentric views from the range Zebulon Huset is a public high school teacher, writer and photographer. He won the Gulf Stream 2020 Summer Poetry Contest and his writing has appeared in Best New Poets, Meridian, Smartish Pace, The Southern Review, Fence and others. He edits the prompt-based Sparked Literary Magazine, back from hiatus this winter.
A Stone Within a Stone
bury better intentions and, burning bright,
can carry us through the darkness of
decaying dads and deicide. If we decide.
Eventualisms even even mountains,
filing their fingers to nubs and flinging
grains of its greatness downriver like
hunks of anthills, not the hulking
igneous or indelible granite slabs
juxtaposing the sky like juts of Gods.
Kleptomaniacs called time and gravity
level us all, little bit by little bitty bit,
mighty and meek in the same millstone.
Never is not a thing that could exist–
once we crack the omniverse,
perhaps, but within our petty realm,
queues of quarrels will keep negation
rootless. An endless rumination
spinning after a perpetual… something.
Toothless mountain ranges tell us
ugly truths about entropy and utopia.
Very grotesque and melodic, the grind
we wake through. We weave our lives
xenolithic on a doomed planet expecting
yesterday to yodel back with next week’s
zeal for being the only thing to never happen.About the Author
