Research output: Textual Creative WorksOther contribution


    Evening sits on the landscape like a serious word as we approach Washington DC. So many acres of privilege lie beneath divided wings and on a highway cars chase yellow headlights. We’ve not come here to find history, yet since the body scanner’s bleep in Los Angeles the flight has delivered loss’s wide cartography—overrun tribal lands given to potatoes, wheat and corn. We don’t belong in the air and below the land’s a residue of palimpsests, none of which we read. On the edge of my seat
    the remains of another flight’s spilt coffee posit a bitter idea of the past.
    Original languageEnglish
    TypeProse poem
    Media of outputPrint journal
    Number of pages1
    Publication statusPublished - 2017

    Publication series

    No.1, July 2017
    ISSN (Print)0043-342X


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