by Michael Dechane The wind from the west is stillunmaking these mountains:each branch and blade tip pointstoward the sea, the sun that rises.From the summit I see around myself.See winter…
Supplicant
By Devon Balwit The Koi in today’s pondknow nothingof yesterday’s earthquakes.They swim in and out of sky,light reflecting throughJapanese maples, all opalescentscales, mouths openingto the same roundnesswhether or not hundredsof…
The Gathered, Made Ready
by Michael Dechane A yellow tomato comes apart at the seammy knife makes. This skin: how can it holdso well so much? I salt the weeping fleshthat reflects this morning…
St. Elias is Two Churches
Under sun, the golden crosses shine
When the sun bursts through the rapid clouds
Gleaming in sympathy.
Night Clouds
“there is nothing special about this suffering”
Destinations
A visitor from outer space,
this alien flames from the back hall’s
dark floor tile. As if this were its target
from the beginning.
My Work and His Walk Through the Storm
“He was probably casual, might have shrugged, like it was nothing and everything all at once. But specifically — how did he look? What was he wearing?”
Existential Sparrows
“Should the fall be anything but
a short one, trust that I’ve carefully prepared a soft bed
of pine needles on the ground, just in case it’s you.”