Fog and rain. The stream runs brown—
It rankles to think my thinking
may senselessly inhere, be merely
I do not mean to say desire is everything.
But earth will do to exhume a heart.
My nostalgia is never a lovely wishing but instead
soldiers marching through yellow fields, dizzy with nausea.
Dress of milk and wire.
Let us eat what makes us holy
before the next war comes.
[source texts: Dave Bonta, Sylvia Curbelo, J. Allyn Rosser, Donika Kelly, Nicole Cooley, Hadara Bar-Nadav, Emily Jungmin Yoon, Ghassan Zaqtan (trans. Fady Joudah)]
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.