Sunday, April 9, 2017

Wolf Poetry By Darren Demaree

Darren Demaree's poems have appeared, or are scheduled to appear in numerous magazines/journals, including the South Dakota Review, Meridian, New Letters, Diagram, and the Colorado Review. 

He is the author of six poetry collections, most recently "Many Full Hands Applauding Inelegantly" (2016, 8th House Publishing). He is the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology and Ovenbird Poetry. 

He is currently living and writing in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children. 


Lost in the acreage,
sin can stretch out a bit,
can sing the crowd

into a burning skeleton,
can make a path
out of the ashes

of each field party
& when the sun becomes
a witness, how many

stray animals do you
think it will count?
How many sheriffs

are found sleeping
in their off-duty trucks?
It’s useless to govern

most of Ohio, but there
is a feeling on the right
night, that doesn’t matter.

Wolf illustration by Jenny Mathews 


The first salvation
is the last salvation.
Most of us have chosen

so poorly that we pull
on every artistry
until we’re swallowed

up in the epic
of our own demise.
There isn’t a Lord,

but there is plenty
of heroin.  Sometimes
it really is that simple.


The river wakes up
from time to time
& every time it does

it spits out at least
one girl I took
to Homecoming.

It’s pretty
fucking righteous,
that damn water.

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