In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

37 inscription Should be writing this with moths’ wings, with water on a rain-spattered stone. But here I am, a body failing to behave with the discretion the spirit has spent long years teaching it: Your closed eyes are ampersands, meaning they stand for something else. Meaning you don’t watch as I describe them or, from memory, what’s behind the lids: dual creeks taking separate draws down the same mountain, two passages, two ungovernable frontiers. From memory? When we were lost, forced to sleep in the forest, my forlorn uncle plucked the grouse we’d shot and lined our caps with plumage. Two cages the light pries open now. Meaning those birds whose wings I broke long years ago flush defiantly out at me again. ...

Share