By: Charlie Mitchell
“power steering / made monsters of all of us”
‘that town’s four beers yonder’ / Wild West’s cocked yardstick.
“lit dart wafts past the rattle/of an AC’s toil.”
“gulp in cloud castles / adrift above granite sieges”
“pause to taste Dasein…”
“Weaving skeins of kind worries / with surgical hands.”
Stonewall Jackson’s I WASHED MY HANDS IN MUDDY WATER
It shocked me as a kid; now it’s a relief.
Regal on the edge of dying light.
This galaxy is neither dystopian nor utopian.
The high beams caught a barn owl sitting in the center of the path facing the Bronco.
Their character sheets were worn from years of play…