neo-classicism sings the blues
the morning after
drooping purple domes
smoked out, spent,
out of rent
but at sunup
the ex-citizens are happy
having upended the tumult
the flag factories, gone–
without fires, fumes
all … view
Who Gets to be You, Now?
I write from the past to let you know
your devotion to red alert will fade.
What feels selfish now will heal you
and remain, righteous and whole.
Your tears will find new purpose.
In my now, the world exists of … view
In an alternative universe
This world denies all possibility
Of loving one of whom I am in awe:
Society, the will of others, law,
All protect only domesticity.
True feeling’s seen as eccentricity,
Infidelity, worse, and must withdraw
Or at best stay … view
The entire contents of a dead man’s house
threaded onto a tarnished silver chain
kissed two red crescents onto my collarbones
as I slipped on his shoes, half a size too small.
I’m inside the last suit
from his widow’s wardrobe,
a row … view
The year was 2050 and, in what had begun as a slow-moving vertical ascent at the turn of the century, the U.S. prison population now hit 40%. Most of the 20th-century boomers and their offspring who had at first clandestinely, and then openly, fought for privatization of the … view
At the End of the Earth
A girl sets down her tablet
and looks out from the five hundredth floor.
She marvels that the plush, green plain
was once a field of ice, that the far-off mountains
were encased in a glacier, … view
You don’t miss the scent of water, everywhere, everywhere,
Until you’ll never see a lake, or stream, or mud puddle again.
– Graffiti on a Mars living quarters pod wall
It’s blue there. So very green.
All things reflective in water.
Black in … view
Brian A. Salmons
There, there. Go back to sleep. You do not hear cannon-fire: fire-crackers! It is someone’s independence day, a haze of time to dissolve the year’s hurt, to ram it through a sieve. Sift pain from happiness. Sleep on welcome nights like this, and when it rains. I … view
they say there’s an image of a ship
carved somewhere in the rocks,
but I can’t find it
soon all the vertical lines
in the rocks
begin to look
thousands of them
from all sides
maybe it’s better … view
Through the Telescope
Above me, patterns preserve
the need for vision,
advance the psychology of those
who, eye against lens,
give something back to mystery.
Crab Nebula, Andromeda,
the names are like fancy’s calling cards,
not the tyranny of distance
but … view