Parched At The Wellspring
– Bruce McRae
I’m looking for a door or a
for a button dropped, a rose in
for the source of a spring named
This is me peddling, like a bug
on its back.
I’ve drawn a circle around the
a student paying homage to his
A fountain pen, if not the
It’s a warm night, unnecessarily
The Ancient Watchmaker claims
This is Nowhere, and there’s no
reason to be here.
Sleepwalkers in the afternoon, we
We crease easily. Our hands are
This is me in a hayfield, chewing
a straw stalk,
gnawing on the sublimely
another inbred clodhopper, the
King of Mutton.
A letter arrives. And like it, we
are torn open.
For a while we read by an ancient
a link among the unexceptional
An extra comma in the illegible
Bruce McRae, a Canadian musician, is a Pushcart nominee with over
a thousand poems published internationally in magazines such as
Poetry, Rattle and the North American Review. His latest book out now,
‘An Unbecoming Fit Of Frenzy’ is available on Amazon and through Cawing
Crow Press. His poems on video can be viewed on YouTube’s