“It was no summer progress. A cold coming they had of it at this time of the year, just the worst time of the year to take a journey, and specially a long journey in. The ways deep, the weather sharp, the days short, the sun farthest off, in solstitio brumali, ‘the very dead of […]

Easter Poem

The Mistaken Gardener by Seth Wieck There was reclamation to be doneThe path being overrun with runnersMy foot having caught in the matrixof vines to skin my palms in the thorns that received me. Read the rest of the poem here.

From the far star points of his pinned extremities, cold inched in—black ice and squid ink— till the hung flesh was empty. Lonely in that void even for pain, he missed his splintered feet, the human stare buried in his face. He ached for two hands made of meat he could reach to the end […]