Her
written by: Carson Pytell
Shakespeare is shamed and shackled
by but a whimper of the wind.
Monet, Turner, supreme in their way,
still bow to the scaping sovereign.
Always we’ve worked to emulate Her –
look long into Niaux, Chauvet, Lascaux –
or at least to glean from grapes and grain –
Perses, if he listened, should be proud.
Nature, as was said, is much more
than what we see.
So, in a garden, there’s no reason not
for ignominy.
Carson Pytell is a poet living in a small town outside Albany, NY. His work has appeared in numerous venues online and is currently available or forthcoming in print from such publications as Vita Brevis Press, The Virginia Normal, NoD Magazine, Blue Moon Lit & Art Review, Spank the Carp, Crack the Spine, Futures Trading, Down in the Dirt Magazine, Gideon Poetry Review, and Children, Churches & Daddies, among others. His debut collection, First-Year (Alien Buddha Press, 2020), is available on Amazon, and his second, Trails (Guerrilla Genesis Press, 2020), is in the works. When he isn't writing, reading, sleeping or picking the blues, Carson enjoys silent and foreign film, documentaries on fellow writers, the music of Townes Van Zandt, the art of Odilon Redon and the politics of absolutely no one.
