The Feral Drones

By: Matthew Battles
December 6, 2011

KNIFING and dipping, they roughen the incoming
   tide, until suddenly falling one swerves;

Snapping at elvers unreaching unknowing,
   broken and dripping, the silvery nerves;

Making sharp with the glint and the scale of the sacrifice,
   hecatomb wet in the salt-laden wind;

Pealing from towers of unalloyed elements,
   routes and celestial patterns unwind.

Turtle and albatross, eels ever migrating,
   metal and flood and the alphabet taste;

Odorless chemistry, sand repositioning
   sand in the spin of it, sand in the waste;

Flocking unmocked by the war spells unburdening
   wings that are paralyzed, eyeless they fly;

Knowing undone in the swerve of the afterburn,
   pyres of code in the writeable sky.



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What do you think?

  1. Hola Matthew,

    We are developing an exhibition at gallery@calit2/UCSD entitled Drones at Home
    and we would like to present your poem.
    Would please contact me.

    Very best,

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