GARLAND RAY WALACE POETRY
FIRST PLACE
Recognition Trent Jaurez
Thighs on this chair plush like wood. As do all trees, I sit and bow around my center with solemnity, the hidden solidity of breath-full bodies. Stubborn puddles of sight burst before, no, within where mind meets mine— nothing that I am. Beginning again, standing and taken up by space, I shudder with wind-blown grass while the ground underfoot recognizes her departed and beloved blade.
The April Perennial 32
