No difference between night and day

when during sleep the world changes.

You repeatedly pull yourself out

and the crowd pushes you.

Your dreams are suddenly tangible,

touch the cry that emerges

from her mouth. Sharp

broken glass

bottle you throw. You meet

a boy who has your late grandfather’s

name and you think this must

say something about his fate.

You see the blinding light. It shines

from beneath a cobblestone. When reaching

for it, you pick the stone up. Your muscles

aren’t used to the arc as a man

in uniform approaches you. Your body

ready for the throw.  




More Remarkable Finds


The women sit before a turkey, baked for hours, always counting the minutes, tapping feet to a tune.
The Northern Lights

The Northern Lights

I never took your last breath; you never saw my first. So when I was young I invented fathers to take your place.


So we go out, our descent reconnaissance for the collective. We perform experiments with swirled words, crescent-moon eyes, and report.


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