Today's poem is by Mark Neely


I believe in a future
when the tuba is what the cool
kids play and sounds not like

the fart of UPS trucks in this
dumb town, not like the loser's
last life moan, but like fog rising

up castle walls would sound
if such things were allowed
to bellow This world

will fall, its flaming guitars
marched to their graves.
The ditches full of tiny phones.

Copyright © 2012 Mark Neely All rights reserved
from Beasts of the Hill
Oberlin College Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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