This poem has appeared in the Spring 2018 (Volume 19) issue of The Liar magazine.
the country runs its zoetrope
before me
cows and horses
horses and cows
(you need to be just far gone enough
to notice the second sky
and not drown
everything changes
but the river never changes
I put a flat palm to my head
and half expect to see myself
on the other side the coast
is decidedly alien
but I can still see you
I can see you
can you see me?
there I am
surrounded by the white fluff
i note and catalogue
while contemplating
my own province or provenance
the city's scarred face
the trees' rabid cuneiform
eighteen geese
mill over the defilade
prepubescent girls
use whole chicken legs
to catch crabs
I once wrote about amber here
(i still don't know what exactly i meant
here I mired my shoes
photographing disaster
here I observed a homeless man drunk
pissing in a brilliant arc