Colby Gillette

5 poems




there faintly dim-shining

(fragrant disquiet)

among swarming AM snows


breaking raspberry

(fragrant pulse)

dawns throughout the day


long live God




Narrows his fingers through light in the soil
So hinges his eye to where the land uncloses
That grass drags wind from the sky, whips it along
Noon’s foam writes itself further into stone
Running out her numerous death, amber steps
Nest their way among animal, mineral gum
Mint odors open toward a backlit road
Her smile again strikes against night—is gone
Sweet quiet caught up in the air till dawn
Brief windows in language catch at a song
Silence enters their labors, evens the load
The wheat field flames, ranges round mystery
Plies his hands in two: wild grace, buried thirst
Unfolds, displaces the awaited face




there, brimming with our own gone

the sleeping weight of your Word

that lights upon my shoulder

aims my song


for Ez



your listening blew closely through

now the wind

you :

this one poem
won’t take off its clothes


  for WSM



bullet holes in the groin
make the soil say beans
what once said bison
offers now pockets
patches binding together
friends and enemies
to catch the same hell flowers

gone bees feed the horizon
every blue-eyed thing
outlaws the wild
grace sauntering keeps
concrete constantly walking
off dirt kids
figure a way back home


Colby Gillette is the author of the collection Hymn Underground (speCt! 2019) and the chapbooks, Without Repair (Called Back Books 2014) and Red of the Dawnbreakers: Translations of René Char (speCt! 2014). His work has appeared in New American Writing, Dusie, Transom and elsewhere.  He holds an MFA from Saint Mary's College of California and a Ph.D. from UNLV. He lives and teaches in Pittsburgh.