He couldn’t get enough of them: those dusty
landscapes on the other side of the screen,
men on horses seeking justice or revenge.
All through my life if he was tired I would
Don’t Hang Up – Bill Brown
Only my wife has my cell number.
Yet, October calls with lack of wind,
says drought, not rain, causes maples’
color change, and no news isn’t good
news until dark skies bleed. Waiting
Civilian – Jared Stanley
All was permitted you.
Rooted out as a misfire or
somebody’s chance smudge
stabbed into a satisfied mind,
Bring me your silent lake in the woods
and your field of harvested grain
with some rich man’s horse pastured nearby,
its eyes pearlescent, its tangled mane.