The Truants, by Eastman Johnson
disappearing into numbers
and words alone keeps havoc at bay
as raw snow spills over greening bristlecone pines
whose animated arms twirl knots into time’s typeset
and bedrock’s splintering soul opens for explorers
of other bodies to decipher
among banquets of unease, no less than a breath away,
something brand new is carried among crosswinds
through musica universalis - an immutable muse
or call-it-what-one-will
love is the unbearable
realization that another,
like you, is suddenly
and implausibly real
drafting
is like
touching
words
carefully
mapping
a knife
(Eros
is a light
sleeper)
and glances
as tender
brushes
of restraint
delicately
willing
to steep
private
loneliness
in greens
and squalls
crescendos
refusing
too soon
a conclusion
among
diminishing
stores
of time
August 8, 2024
It was almost time to bring in the sheep before the sun set behind the mountains. With excitement on her face and a bounce in her step, Iris emerged from the bedroom to the patio of her adobe house with a volleyball.
Rime has settled on our wine fridge and the kitchen // island, making the quartz glacier shimmer in the // morning light.
On the evening of Tuesday, March 18, 2025, the State of Louisiana, under the direct orders of Governor Jeff Landry, executed Jessie Hoffman, Jr., age 46.
It’s not the gunshot that’s surprising. That’s just noise on top of other noise echoed by the cave-like walls of the bar. It’s the silence that follows. Shocking, complete silence. Then the screams that pour into it.