“I need these. For reasons,” I said. “I really do.” And so we left with the dice (for direction for discerning and divining, though I declined to say that to you) you took me by surprise not you, but me-with-you my not knowing what to do and I thought I could divine not you, but…
Author: Gabriel Lunesce
when I say I miss the country
the taste of milk from a goat who tried to butt me the day before the juice of a tomato I picked (from a garden I had to clear of rocks) running down my arm But when I say I miss the country I mean… no home grown fruit was ever as sweet as muscadines…
I sat in the backseat, a child
I sat in the backseat, a child, watching clouds break apart. A line of cars, headlights on, pavement drying below us. At the cemetery my aunt said the rain stopped and clouds moved to make room for big papaw to get through to heaven. I sat in the living room, an adult, the same place…
When I take the chance of dreaming
When I take the chance of dreaming, I dream of Pirate Librarianship Illicit materials Gathered Offered To all comers. Clandestine sex ed In the face of death dealing institutions The Jocelyn Elders Children’s Reading Room For how to love yourself And others History classes from the bottom up, The names and places of the colonized…
after a storm
after a storm the pine and oak limbs heavy a woodpecker startled
some of the cans we scavenged
some of the cans we scavenged from the ditches after shift drinks scattered amongst the snakes stabbing with a stick skipping those too close to water moccasins from the neighbors we carried tin cans of tin cans to the concrete slab crushed sledgehammered one by one stench of week-stale beer skipping slurred sermons to swiftly…
No, that one’s shit.
No, that one’s shit. Yeah, that’s shit too. Okay, that one starts out okay… but then it turns to shit. You could try fixing it, but that’ll probably be shit too. I mean… it has potential, but right now? In this moment? It’s shit. And really, if you tried, you’d still never actually develop that…
down 1022
the hay had grown taller than we were then just about ready for baling we ran through it as fast as we could push ourselves knocking down the reeds thinking we were blazing new trails I ran so hard I couldn’t see home behind me when I came back home wasn’t there anymore the hay…
“Let the river wash it away.”
The project done, they’d toss what was left over the levee. “Let the river wash it away.” After work he’d back up and load up his truck. Leftovers. Junk. Bits of this and that. I learned to crawl on hardwood floors the river never got. I walk that levee now, picked clean for decades.
Banking on an invisible track
Banking on an invisible track, the hawk turns her belly to the sun, silhouette becoming bright beige and cream in the yellow evening light. All work below stops, workers paused in wonder, this moment, this blessing, becoming everything. The skies clear, we turn again to the soil, this moment, this blessing.