at night board the windows, bring in the dogs the dead come for nothing left to eat. don’t look out what none see in. the living are outside of time. when day comes the shore is all currents. come to the sand, it’s all directions. bring your limbs to the shore where no side of… [Read More]
Gillian Hamel
NO DISASTER #354
blood at my back and blood in my hair. I bite red & black. the shore is liquid until it becomes solid— no movement, no retreat. the blood mixes with sand, tracks ice. liquid stains advances, miles and red miles to send forth. the stained hand sweeping clears our numbers and the water clears my sight…. [Read More]
NO DISASTER #113
wouldn’t you like to grasp the stigma of this. men made of tissue, the flesh of plants, the unliving. who comes to the top and dares you to reach. the beat of the dead upon us—our lines aren’t read. we sang together before we sang together, whoever told us so. who told us to sing… [Read More]