By Keith Burton i was stretching my legs on the littoralgiving names to the shapes of the cloudsthat swam across the lake’s reflectionwhen trouble came crawling on eight legs. help me across he asked with a period. i knew better; i had an owl’s acuity.no can do, i know you…
by Michael H. Brownstein When I pass to the nether world, my dearest, watch for me in the rain. Do not go outside in gentle dress— I will be the acid from hammer fist clouds. When the weather changes, be sure to salt the walkway as you go. I will…
by Michael H. Brownstein 1. The door in the wall led to an inner sanctum and the path through the garden to a paved road narrow and bent, through and over. We took it, step by step, against ancient brownstone, gray brick and rock, until the house we never lived…
by Michael H. Brownstein Everything you wear, you wear to its grave, your gray stockings a small hole near the big toe, its color an undistinguished gray your shirt with a stain your pants frayed at the bottom, a rip in one pocket, change falling freely creating melodies you are…
by Michael Brownstein –after the Shamanistic Theory of Three Souls and the reading of the bones when a ram is sacrificed When sleep is not a promise, and the witness tree fills itself with ants, the break in the collarbone is never enough or it may be as plentiful as…