Don’t say a word by Bob Hicok Strange to be alive. I say that
in the conviction I was once a rock.
Living in the mountains
is coming home. Maybe, but the maple
is shaking no. I like the narcissism
of wind better than my own. Do trees dream
of walking away? I’d love to stand
in one place and give oxygen to the sky
to give life to you. If I die today,
this is my last poem. What have I done —
overused love. I won’t recognize silence,
even when silence is all I’ve become. Art by Anna Gilhespy
Recommended listening: Bebe de Vyah - Peter Cat Recording Co. Make Out in My Car - Moses Sumney & Sufjan Stevens
Links of the Day: Optimism
Transnistria, The Country That Doesn’t Exist Polygon-Wrapped Floral Arrangements by Norihiko Terayama