singing home

o great gray abase
ment carved into 

a hillside followed
by behind a plague

of credit card state
ments stars & what

of it is anywhere else
but hanging in the tree

mulberry blank stares
& pangs of whatever

guilt & pained express
ions size of greater

than hollowed out inside
of a house the empty

echoing rulebooks 
wallpaper stone steps

no song sung no wet
kiss to award no strums

of the spine strings
simple for but to erase

oneself into the buttoned
up green black earth

no longer a-coming or
a-going not nowhere


Nick DePascal lives in Albuquerque, NM with his wife, son, three dogs, and three chickens, where he teaches at the University of New Mexico.  His first book, Before You Become Improbable, won the inaugural West End Poetry Prize, and will be published by West End Press in 2014.  His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Narrative, The Laurel Review, The Los Angeles Review, The Emerson Review, Aesthetix, RHINO, and more.