Isaiah
The wolf plans to live with the lamb, the leopardto lie with the goat. It’s written in stoneand onion skin. The lion will eat straw,the snake will eat dust. It’s prophesiedin ball point on the palm of your hand.The date has been fixed for the wedding:the guests will gather, and mill, and dispersethere beneath the dimmed marquee.
I guess you say
Static soft as snow, noise emptiedof sound and the sirens quenchedfor an hour. A meteor falling intoradio waves, burning through the breathof this world. I’ve got a sweeter songsays the song than the birds inthe trees. Turned up, up too loud.What can make me feel this way?
Hart Island
Taken by a drone over mass graves, the phrasejuts, cutting, from the page like pampas grass,invasive. The photographer’s blockedby the police; the drone seized.Passive…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, May/June 2022