Mornings people wake nomadic to find themselves later resident in the red glance of sunfall. Perhaps you name this state home for the least errant of roots. Trails etched just as far as needed, landmarks more reliable than placenames placed here and gone—. The redbrick silo lingers, a reedpipe for an underwater town. Carved in […]
I miss that, sometimes: the normal, natural phenomena, the approach road running aground in a clearing. Someone says the lights are out, above and past as light is. We’ve battened our homes to land, given the domestic up to ballast. A car arrives, another, a wilderness of bikers, slowly the pedestrians. Scanning the distance for […]
Bury your eyes in late barley. Your congregation sleeps in the baptismal river—an answer to thirst, a satisfaction—a flock that would not shepherd. When told the abandoned do not companion despair they still sought flight, sought turning from water. Their restlessness a dusk leave of settlement; yours a crowsighted knowledge: how you were chosen for […]
Tonight, there’s a lot of fancy cars in the All-Purpose Magical Tent. Fordcedes, Lamboursches. How they gleam. The sheen on them’s been shun so shiny they would dazzle you, Leif Erikson, if only you had eyes for it. This time been spent on buff and burnish and what yield of decals you’d not believe. Some […]
Fear of wheatfields. Fear of groundbeetles. Fear of where the tree trunk disappears below ground. Fear of ground opening to absence like the magician’s trick cabinet. She can sleep only on water and fitfully. Footfall is an act of brevity then she is soundlessly at your shoulder. From stilts, rooftops, belltowers she studies faraway, learns […]
I It is always at the outset a displacement— [the monster] is fragment, obscured glance, suspicion, boneshard, is one town over and can be seen footprint or silhouette at the Gates of Difference, dependent on their unlocking. It does not test the height of the wall, try to scale it; is bound to rules even […]
“Go long,” you say, “get open,” though you mean Why don’t you tie your sorrows to your saddle-bow and ride singing forth?—and I set off, gone beyond the last bus-stop, its shelter idling, I continue past the moon landing staged in a barn the government has blacked-out and starred with phosphor. I keep going, past […]
And Kate is gone—some climate tension—flown the kind of coop we thought we’d built hereto and how the world’s less blond than once, and no, no key’s been left for locking the lean-to so vagrant’s grown the inners, kind of nest we called a bird’s hereto, with moss ado about the walls, their lichen grey, […]