The wind had to do with the places we couldn’t touch.
The branches were the places we did,
lying at the roots
with your arms around me. We watched the birds
flock in — a cloud —
and settle. That was before migrating patterns,
the need to keep the sun at the tip
of the wing.
Knowing the body meant eating a piece
of fruit and throwing away the pit.
All around, the soft flesh …
![[If every life is four-dimensional] | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian](https://www.zocalopublicsquare.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/Justin-Rigamonti-poem-L-160x108.jpeg)
If every life is four dimensional,
if your “now” is just one segment of your whole
and your body spans across the surface of time,
then I could trace the …
Keeps him moving all through the end
of summer night, nails loading the floorboards
with the heaviness of sleep that cannot
land. Drowsing, he moves
his basket room to room, searching …
You taught me to accept whatever came to the door: a bushel of corn, two porterhouse steaks, a bag of bittersweet horehound candy—your favorite—and the suffering that each of us …
Anyway, my band Preppy Haircut.
Venue asked what time we could loden.
I said anytime but I prefer hunter.
Assuming we’re all wearing khakis.
They said no this is for …
1. I walked down the street towards the subway attentive to the shifting geography ahead, to the uneven sidewalk, which looked as though an active fault line ran below. …
He came to me in a dream, wet as a newborn in his new skin. I readied him for a bowl of bitter world (the cathedral two blocks away from …
by Jessica Piazza Wind, I want to spin headlong alongside you, I do. Insects assault into somersaults over the ocean, still certain of your benevolence. But you might die down and I might …
The wind has snatched the Frisbee and the boy scrambles into the bushes to catch it in flight as though the ground would score a point for touching it first.
