David Dasher

summer leaves have two faces: toward the sun they swelter grim as anyone can; in the wind-pushed rain they jump & run & their dull pallor brightens the sudden light and the sudden dark. also the black streets are silvered, the thick yellow sun-cages dissolved into gray distances. my love and my joy, which are […]

Step, and step, and step, and step, down to the basement, always the basement, kicking salt-slush off boots against every stair, the basement overheated, overlit like an incubator, with skittery sparrows in the lobby, lounging watchful, then the move to the meeting-room, pushing chairs into circles, lopsided as eggs—Who’s first? Who will be first? Who […]

Since He took you away I still do no work, and never break a sweat. Mostly I’ve taken to making the animals mate for my amusement. So I, like my Maker, have brought forth new life: one creature, the mule, eyes me cantankerously and resents being fed. I spend much time with it, feeling like, […]