The sun, a fat, lazy hog in the Arkansas sky, was startin' to dip its snout below the Ozark foothills, paintin' the Land of Goshen in hues of bruised peach and old whiskey. Down by the Piggly Wiggly, Cletus...

The moonlight, a rather ambitious floodlight really, considering the ambient glow from the Stewart’s Shops down the road, bathed Brenda Higgins’ modest Poughkeepsie backyard. She was perched on her porch swing, a fleece blanket around her shoulders despite it...

I am the drone, a wisp of sight-  I felt the warmth of borrowed breath.A borrowed lens in endless night, the second life, the final death. I see my hands in theirs—a lie—  I, the moon ascends a fungal bloom.And spread...

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁' 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓁𝒹𝓈𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒶 𝒻𝑜𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓁 𝓇𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓈  𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈𝑔𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈  𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒶 𝒽𝒶𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝒽𝓎𝓉𝒽𝓂𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁  𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒹𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈

From the poet's ink it begins to rise- not a moon, but a cyclops eye, bleaching the green from the leaf.And then,there are no longer trees.Just a hunched back embryo,waiting for Genesis- leaching the warmth from the stone.Grinding a...