This world is a little place-
very beautiful
as blue,
blue as green
and the grass waving and sky
Strikes me- just so

As I write
here are Robins- just got home-
seem to myself a robin
have lent my Wing to a bewildered and cannot
Balmless Wound

A little place, we stood
a hundred years, a little place,
the tangled road
a word-

Spring which doth sing
and frighten
I often wish myself-
a’bloom- No Bird


If God is -
presume he is lonely
without you. And I,
my Eyes little coppers filled
with the letter confess-
prayed for a tiding
built of but just a syllable



Brad Vogler's poems have appeared in places which include: Free Verse, Moria, Versal, BlazeVOX, and Word for/Word, and he has work forthcoming in Jacket2 and Dear Sir. He builds and maintains the website for Delete Press (www.deletepress.org), and is the editor of Opon (www.opon.org). His first chapbook, Fascicle 30, was just released from Little Red Leaves Textile Series.





poetryBarzakh Mag