Not in Ourselves

in Poetry Prose, Poetry, and Art Winter 2024 on Share

     I.     Theo Opening again the arrantcorrespondence—relief of the sown fields,bread of affliction:a restless brother burnshis way to harvest,painting space as thing,as woodcut furious,flinders of fire and leaf,heavy, sun-dense strokes, dark notes dealingfor fugitive effects;a red brother workingpetitions for more room, more light, aches of vision given the gleaning, its price:  close the correspondence—which love deserving silencewhich brothers, being divided, unrelieved.      II.     Gauguin A sunburned man wants all the smoke.Hot with other people’s…

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Acadian Armor

in Nonfiction Prose, Poetry, and Art Uncategorized Winter 2024 on Share

1 Childless and widowed, I slide into bed like a bug that scuttles away to escape getting stomped. I am not a bug but I am flattened. By loneliness, worry, missing my boy, now grown. By the encroaching fog of my father’s dementia. Years ago, his mother made the quilt that covers me. Age and love have beaten it soft. It covered my bed in…

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Matanzas

in Poetry Prose, Poetry, and Art Winter 2024 on Share

Nothing has waited for me. The river shrugs its fog shawl. Fisher birds shriek, light whitewing flecks of untouched watercolor paper, watchful of what bubbles in the ink. From a forgetful distance I’m returning to beauty out of harsh grief, ugly, out of breath or practice. Returning is the decision to live. Or. Returning is the discoverynothing has waited for me. Mass graves were never found here onlybecause no one looked. Burials…

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Nature Poet

in Poetry Prose, Poetry, and Art Winter 2024 on Share

–for Lucas Clark In the rain, I climb into the mouthof the cave, and Lucas is rowing throughhis dream. He says, there are so many peoplein the next life, like you wouldn’t believe.His boat has sprung a leak. He patches itwith a Polyphemus moth. His oars are twosnakes wrapped around his arms; they biteat oil-dark stalagmites. Lucas opens a doorand we walk into the woods…

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Dear East County

in Poetry Prose, Poetry, and Art Winter 2024 on Share

You cradled our moto-X babies, our strip mall teens, and three pack a day fathers, chilled our ring-tabbed beer cans in your run-off rivers, and absorbed oilrising like mist from our vats of fried food, sucked exhaust from our tricked-out cars, we atebulbous berries by the hallock, pondered savory, illicitmushrooms blooming in your fecundforests, you gave up Douglas firs by the chevronfor our duplexes and ranches, you watched us…

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