Roaches
Issue nº4
THE LAZARUS LONG HAUL alright it’s the 2nd of September how are you feeling - locked in some stage of unfulfillment, my novel time rarely dripping from stalactite thoughts or sweat off my brow and fingertips I can write; the function not fossilized but elevated in poems that pass like Solana & Sequana twin sister barges on the water off the flanks of west Ile Saint Louis an island so small incorporating any lexicon of direction seems trivial quite accurately a plea of futility limp, lucid, & lurid as the yellow broken diamond of a dead skinned yellow leaf hovering on the astigmatic camouflage of hunter kaleidoscopes green, black dare I say blue waves still shuddering from the boats of two minutes ago the water seems lower than usual and not for the first time I care about the rain (would I, could I, will I, do I take the rain? Is it all the same? the feeling of falling and being fallen on - catch me?) is that the world laughing over my shoulder or is my heart searching for a reason to hate itself - why? is it what you learn from droughts to live without lubrication 78
