Round Nouns by Will Stanier
Peony tulips.
Quarter horses.
Crabapples in shiny goblets.
Mummified greeting cards.
Little amplifier tentacles.
Old Testament dune buggies.
Spelling bees, specters of the fog.
I conquer bog monsters.
Battle scars, satin scarves,
centenarians
practicing their kickflips.
I build and maintain ball pits
in forgotten boroughs
of the city.
A city called
Harrisburg,
the state capital of Earth.
Quarter horses.
Crabapples in shiny goblets.
Mummified greeting cards.
Little amplifier tentacles.
Old Testament dune buggies.
Spelling bees, specters of the fog.
I conquer bog monsters.
Battle scars, satin scarves,
centenarians
practicing their kickflips.
I build and maintain ball pits
in forgotten boroughs
of the city.
A city called
Harrisburg,
the state capital of Earth.
Will Stanier is a poet and printer from Athens, Georgia. He currently lives in Tucson, where he's training to be a librarian. He's the author of a chapbook, Everything Happens Next (Blue Arrangements, 2021). His poems have appeared, or are forthcoming, in Pacifica, The Volta, RECLINER, Annulet and The Baffler.
