I. Union The hum of brotherhood, ice and cold condensation as though drawing a universe into oneself and collapsing it, the plow and field in ancient memory, and now: lucidity in glass A declaration: “I am the essence of myself, distilled and then diluted.” II. Displacement Unbound, unwound, gripped by a hand (not yet 21) […]

Sometimes we leave our empties on trash cans. Sometimes we can’t be bothered. Other times we throw them at the wall in euphoric rage.