Blinders

Joshua Huber

Morning Poem


God, how the grass grows heavy in the cream
of dark autumn dawn. I ache for the thin-
lipped mouth of morning to sing its sparse light
as a hymn slowly flown to these realms
of shadowed repose. What a cold bright thing I am.
Little knife light day drawn to the opaque
gloaming of my drowsy fortress. Mother
sleep, Mighty Mother dream, burn´┐Żlet this first
flame bringing its purple, soft swing set this
wild-wooden world to dancing. Let swell the blood
to the grain, to the blade.






Joshua Huber

JOSHUA HUBER lives in Columbia, MO with his wife Angela. He recently graduated from the Master of English program at the University of Missouri, where he also taught. His favorite season is winter.





Copyright 2016 Blinders Literary Journal | Contact: blindersjournal@gmail.com