Fall 2016

Volume 11, Issue 2



Five Poems


Another stomp though it’s sunlight
dissolving into dirt the way all noise
wears out, limps and at your side

two radios, one covered with mud
the other bit by bit chips through
the small stones inside each ear

and in-between, who’s alive? who’s dead?
–who listens for that static
still on fire as this shovel

not yet exhausted, entangled
with weeds that can’t take it anymore
break apart and the unbearable heat

from blossoms the sun empties into
as rain and more rain
till you splash in the sound

not yet your shadow
though one foot blackens first
dragging you under and inches apart.

Pulling this bowl to your lips
as if traction was needed
though it must know by now

why you dig with the same whisper
that once beat back the wind
and the sky changing direction

–you lift with what became
the moon, still crawling in its cage
one end to the other, that no longer

struts in the open, is terrified by air
wants to cool and in your throat
crumbles from exhaustion and splashing

–you make a spray so this spoon
will empty in your arms overflowing
as grass and so many fingers.

The door knows why it opens
and still you’re not used to it
could be a sound from the 40s

gutting this radio
the way all skies darken
fill with distances

–you listen for the slow turn
the Earth never forgot
though a hidden crack

keeps the room from exploding
and costs you nothing
has already started its climb

spreads out –with both arms
you begin to crawl
and not yet an old love song.

You begin to sweat, for hours
the way these stars poke through
and everything has come true

–it’s a knack you learn
quickly, pulling up small stones
–that’s it! afterwards

you bring back those same days
as evenings that no longer
say anything, the darkness

is enough, lets your fingertips
pin down the Earth, hold it
drain it –afterwards

you put back its night
as once and never again
though your shadow too

falls from a sky swept away
for rain and your hand
wider than usual, gone.

Look around you, yes
it will pass by the way darkness
comes from the ground

wanders alongside you
with nothing to stop it
crawling over your grave

as if it needs these flowers
gathered from the center
the Earth no longer turns

and before that nothing
–this hillside already has
your cheeks, is still expanding

needs more dirt, more sky
and your shoulders waving
in all directions at once

making room –reach around
and all this emptiness
all from a single goodbye.




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