Outside is the rain half the world waits for as much as we hate it at times; it gives us whatever we can gather from the energy that is frozen and makes up the world I swore I’d never live in. But like everything else it passes on its way to teaching me which way to turn. In the meantime, left with nothing but dreams and memory, I’m practicing for the death we all know is coming, that none of us know how to face. I keep trying the prayers and other means as if each could be a plot twist in the novel I keep wishing I could write. All I want to end with is the person who points down the street.
Directions
Further Reading
Imago for the fallen world by Matthew Cooperman and Maruis Lehene (reviewed by Brigit Kelly Young)
THE FIGHT FOR IDEALISM IN IMAGO FOR THE FALLEN WORLD by Matthew Cooperman and Maruis Lehene Jaded Ibis Press 212 pages reviewed by Brigit Kelly Young In IMAGO for the fallen world, a new collection of poems by Matthew Cooperman with accompanying images by Marius Lehene, the reader is presented with several letters to the planet. […]
May 1998
by Jeddie Sophronius
Don’t— I don’t remember if it rained that day. What I do remember was the smoke in the distance. No, not the sight of smoke, the smell, that piercing odor similar to the first few stages of decay, of rot—and maybe rot wasn’t so far off, maybe it was a corpse that burned. […]
This Thought of Susan by John McKernan
Is probably What powdered uranium tastes like Yes She was the word floozie to a T But that word Does not rhyme with the word pain Why am I looking again at these photos We’re sleeping on some white beach at midnight Who could have taken this picture ? What an intriguing corpse I’ll make My brain loves […]
