A Month in Krakow
A funny thing happens:
A day becomes a month,
a plot becomes a line
— best fit —
and outliers are discarded
for sake of
the data.
Category: Poetry
It Stares Back
I’m not sure why
it seems more real
to stand at the edge
and look at what hell
we’re capable of Continue reading It Stares Back
Geocidal
I tap the edge of the granite counter. Somewhere concrete poured in. The quarry was cornered. Choo choo trains were ridden to end of lines. I tossed salacious incendiaries like drilling hardline worries i.e., porcelain blemished with salt water stains, i.e., sagging ledges, a broken water main. Did you know you can turn a dead-and-gone loved one … Continue reading Geocidal
Well, We Found Ourselves Here (Now What?)
Bucking bull chained.His dangling septum ring clangs,golden or iron-wrought,winged or Atlassian,8 seconds of madness thenunrecognizable sideways glances and…You, an unbroken linkcan trace your line inpuddle jumpers, layovers andtrans-Atlantic migrations, thatuprooting of plugs planted in new land,tilled before and after by handsthat clasped your own. Locked,intertwined, in bedaboard the Lusitania that lifesank, but you are firm.Grounded, … Continue reading Well, We Found Ourselves Here (Now What?)
Aaron Gerry 