Avant-Garde
A man slouches before a uni-colored canvas
with the perplexity of a stumped technician
gaping at the unremittingly blank screen
of a television. He adjusts his stance,
a double antenna, in search for reception.
Audio
At the End of the World Is Forgetting
In the abandoned stacks of the abandoned wing of the library where abandoned books are kept—there is quiet beyond the finger-to-the-lips shush, beyond the quiet thrum of the furnace deep in the womb of this place, beyond the low hum of traffic seeping from the streets.
Among Other Things
I bought her two pairs of wide-leggèd jeans at Target last week. For the longest time, like a year, I’d
Rural Education
When my classmate’s cow died
in the name of science they winched it
onto the junior high football field just as
the sky started to spit small white pellets
Bad Back
Last night, in 7-11, the cashier reached
across the counter to scan my purchases
then grimaced and grabbed the small
of his back. I know that pain well
so I said, “I’ve got a bad back, too.”
Blue Sky
On weekends when the woman walks up hills, she does it to see the sun. At sea level, thick smog obliterates the sky, a gray and toxic smothering. Despite the altitude, once she gets above it she breathes easier. She has not seen such a blue sky from down below since childhood.