print preview
back BETH BACHMANN

bright one

Follow the belt. The bull’s bloodshot eye is back. So much

is timing, the stars where they are

in winter: sailor, soldier, degrees

we chart. No desire for story, no explanation. The hunter

seen or unseen, either way, the bodies are struck

in this or that pattern. Hot stones, the horns and hooves where

we feel them.    

---

   Contributor’s notes

   afterlife
   bright one
   restriction

return to top