subtly against

I have this against the world, one white bird, cut in the indigo sky, changing, banking left and write in the wind that feels nothing. One white bird, an avian denominator, coming forth between then and here to steer straight into the sun and burn. Cut in the indigo sky, changing the music of planes, […]

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contest

green, black, round, fragrant, sweet — unattached, ready to roll. between your fingers, almost bursting — thin skin, juicy, small. pick them up one by one, lift — firmly, not letting go. they will obey, each one in its place — collapse in agony, bleed. onto your tongue, simple sugars, sap — nutrients you need. […]

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(untitled) or mute

As I took my father’s hand in mine, I was stricken how similar the hands were. His hand, rough from work, and scarred, and damaged by the explosives after the war, when he was too inquisitive. My hands, scarred, a little rough and fingerless from being too inquisitive 29 years later. There was a large […]

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into that good night

tō niht mīn fadir for-ferðe. God is merciful. yesterday i thought of Dylan Thomas’ Do not go gentle into that good night: how true to the wind that poem sailed. And now, to the funeral arrangements.

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green peppered with white

the clouds shook, the green hair of the sod got peppered with white, — and then only the tips, green over grey, stiff in the breeze, unmoving. the knife in my hands, sticky with what oranges produce, the sharp spray in my nostrils, stopping, for a moment, what revolves in the dark. i open mīn […]

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the witness of castaway

I am effectively church-less. I have been made to leave the church I served, when the pastor initiated not extending my evangelist credentials on the grounds that he did not see a necessity for my ministry in this particular congregation. He initiated the process behind my back, never mentioning it to me. I had to learn […]

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holes in the universe

I cannot unlove you; when the morning sings out moonlight, as the snow turns to ashes at dawn, I gently finger the rough edges of what you left of me, leaving. Serrated, larger than life, sharp, silently seeping with something red. It is cold, the snow scintillates, throwing tiny maroon reflections back at the mourning […]

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