The Bridge

Night lingers. I carry my feet up the trail covered in a thin layer of fog. Trees glow an ethereal green in the dull bright of twilight. I’m alone. Not even rabbits or squirrels are here for company. They sleep in their burrows, their dens, their homes.  An old wooden bridge sways halfway up the…

There Is No Sound, but the Machines Are Screaming

Take a deep breath.  I am breathing. The heavy air--fattened by the shavings of metal, humidity of sweat--fill my lungs with the part of my desert lips. My neighbors across my square, they breathe too. They open their mouths like fish. Gulp. Air in. Now continue working.  I work hard on the machine. Using the…

I Am in the Mouth

My feet are sliced. In the dark, I don’t know if it is twigs or broken glass which cuts at my soles. I’ve never been to the swamps. I’ve lived so close to them and yet have never traveled into their wilderness. Where the wet trees hang spanish moss like curtains to hide prying human…

It’s a Cold Day and I Can’t Go Home

I no longer see the smoke from the village. It’s harder for me to pretend I’m warm. Not even the light of their flickering fires are in my line of sight. I am faced with the vast stretch of snow-covered wilderness. Frosted tops of evergreens, birches. Old lumbering giants that sway in the howls of…