The World is Disorganized
The universe, with no end,
Lacks a point of understanding
Though scars always seek one to mend;
Fanning fires only keeps a base-tan—
Recognizing disorder is to eat death.
As square shapes are lost trying
To decide where their lines are,
The charcoal pines (like broken eggs)
Are dying to be whole,
To be the sun, an adored star.
Barbaric, bizarre; with no end—
Like a vulture’s well-spent time,
there’s one True Word to record,
(A crease in the fold that holds it all);
Maggots live lives most explored.
Eating death, now that’s a line
With three others that can
Be called a square; there’s no end
To any one point of reasoning,
So the savvy eat death all the time.
Wooden Horses is about the juxtaposition of family and work, love and society. Brogan’s words highlight different aspects of everyday life and focuses on becoming a father for the first time. Brogan highlights these balances with at times naive, poetic forms that ring with subtle, yet relatable detail. We all must navigate the sometimes complicated waters of relationships and family, but were there is struggle, there is truth. Brogan’s words will haunt the reader with familiar ghosts and inspire a fresh understanding.
“These poems are time traveling and sturdy! Brogan utilizes classic poetic devices in “Wooden Horses”, poems about family bonds, work life and the act of balancing both. These stanzas and lines embrace the natural and simple wonders of life. His lyric and patterns are humorous, honest, and refreshing like a morning breath of spring dew.”
–Kisha Nicole Foster, Author of Poems 1999-2014 and Bloodwork.