One Poem by Will Reger

The Blow

My heart is clotted with time.
I run into the cloud-boil that
sweeps the clutter of words away.
I am mute without a conversation.

Today, like every day, is a lesion
in yellow, blue, or in gray,
but this is good because shifting colors
will be the legs of a dream,
the hands of a mood,
the eyes of a poem.
Look at how the color of words
has brought the sea home
every twelve hours,
to rest at your feet.

I ride a wasp to my labors.
A thin-waisted, blue-black beauty
with a buzzing hairy voice
and a claymore sting.
She is my faith and adoration,
the ancient caress of her voice,
the soul of my bravura,
the laugh in my gravitas.
Without her I sing as poorly
as a moaning badger.

And don’t ask to borrow my pencil–
I’ve never opened the box,
but this pen is older than I am.
It still trickles titillations better
than any mountain lightning.
It strikes the hardest blow,
the terrible berserker blow,
the heart and eye blow,
the blow of compassion,
the blow of smoke,
the undying blow,
the blow of love’s flame.


Will Reger is an Illinois poet. He is the Inaugural Poet Laureate for the city of Urbana, IL. He co-founded the CUPoetry group, which has been building community one poem at a time since 2013. He teaches History at Illinois State University. His published poems have been archived on his twitter account @wmreger.

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