“A Quarterly
Published Strictly
Quarterly”
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On one side of the road
was ice and fog,
on the other, smoke and fire.
We were driving by the river
while the fire burned above us
a quarter-mile away.
Cool on the driver's side,
and on the passenger's,
the closed window glass
was hot to the touch.
PART V: The funny thing about hell is that it seldom announces its presence. Hell is sly. What I shall now endeavor to describe is not a scene of total delusion, but rather its perfectly sane antecedent: the assumption that all things must pass...
~WITH~
And though the dirt never dries
a simple circle makes it easy
—your fingertip begins to warm
then later the emptiness
it's used to —by heart
curves in as if the grass
knows nothing about the tiny waves
Haiti burns her own house
then returns to inhabit the ashes.
In Port Au Prince, it's said
Time does not pass,
Her costumes change.