"Directing the traffic of crows and their shadows." -Charles Simic, from The Voice at 3:00 A.M.

Ideals

I was poisoned. I couldn’t believe it when it happened, after the lengths I took to avoid something like that. It was either the glass of water, or the blueberry pancakes, or the bacon, either strip, or, it could have been all of those. An hour after breakfast I felt the poison metabolize in my guts and work it’s way through my system. By noon, I had started sweating and pacing, thinking about nothing but poisonous snakes and spiders, and wondering which poison was used on me. I wondered if it attacked my central nervous system. I wondered which motor function would go first. I wondered if it had already begun, and I just didn’t notice yet. I went to the bookstore and bought some volumes of medical journals, a book on poisons used by indigenous tribes in South America, and a funny book of poison-related jokes that caught my eye while walking to the register. When I got home, I told my wife one of the jokes. Oh, and, by the way, I’ve been poisoned, and I’m not sure when I’ll die I said. Really, and after the lengths you take to avoid things like that my wife said. It’s been years since then. I got the promotion, despite my ailment, with my charming knowledge of poison-related jokes. I traveled to South America and lived with a tribe for a month. There, they have this saying that has something to do with poison and souls. I’m not sure what it is, exactly, but I feel privileged to be part of something like that. I can’t wait till the day I forget how to blink.

"I should put on tighter shorts for a new perspective." -Matthew Rohrer, from A Plate of Chicken

Strength

I bumped into Patricia in the busy street. Oh, wow, I barely recognized you I said. That’s because I don’t know you she said. Right, but, well, I suppose I thought that you would have looked different I said. Patricia looked around the street. I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else she said. Of course, but look at how you’ve grown up. It’s been years I said. We have never met before she said. Patricia, it’s me, Allan I said. My name is Mary she said. We stared at each other for a moment. People kept brushing past us, all on their own missions. Cars drove by, and some of the drivers glanced at us. Should we go grab a coffee and catch up I said. Patricia put her hands on my shoulder, and leant close to my ear. Let’s call it grabbing a coffee and talking about all the lifetimes we’ve had apart from one another she said. I nodded gravely. She took my hand, and we began walking behind a group of people, all of them hurried. The last person of the group turned to us. I don’t recognize you two he said. He turned back, and began walking a bit faster.

"Get yourself a pie and someone let them wave goodbye." -Seth Landman, from The Wild Hawk the Sea

Orchard

I walk outside as the snow melts

the insides of my shoes soak

a bird forgets how to fly

and falls from the sky

in the most graceful

looping dive

on the horizon a figure stands

alone but with wolves all around

all holding balloons from the fair

chasing one another

somebody punches me

in my chest

somebody else kisses me

on the forehead

I always realize I like it all

once it's too late

"Actual crows carrying the soul away." -Zachary Schomburg, from The Man Suit

Crowd

I was getting nervous. Are you traitor I said. The person sitting across the table from me shook his head “no,” and was perspiring a bit around his forehead. Are you the traitor he said. I shook my head “no,” and started fidgeting with my silverware. This is a nice restaurant I said. Oh, by far, one of the best he said. I’m just not sure if I’ll be able to eat, what, with that traitor on the loose I said. The person shook their head gravely in agreement. From the booth behind me, I heard a muffled whisper. The person must have noticed it, too, because he was looking to the right of my head, behind me, quite alarmed. It was the traitor. After all the search parties, all the helicopter chases, after all of the army involvement, television announcements, search-dog barking, rewards, and false positives, here was the traitor, sitting in the flesh and blood, enjoying some meal I could smell, but wouldn’t dare to look and see what it was. I heard the traitor’s leather seat squeaking as he moved around, and, before the person or I could protest, he had joined us at our booth. Hey, Steve. Hey, James the traitor said. I felt weak. Hey, Dave I said. Don’t speak to him; you could be an accessory now the person said. We paid for our untouched meals, and left the restaurant. It was a cloudless, mild day, so, the three of us decided to go on a walk in the park. The trees were changing color, but because of the drought. We could hear sirens in the distance, but, with that traitor on the loose, there was always some sort of siren going off, and it was difficult to tell the difference between another siren and the howl of the wind. We took the hiking path to the overlook of the town. We watched the sun set, there, in silence. Our old friend, Dave, was gone, and James and I didn't know whether to feel grief, or to feel happy for our last day.

"Something has to leave a mark so I shape-of-an-X you." -Zachary Schomburg and Emily Kendal Frey, from Ok, Goodnight

Seasons

The prison guards came into my cell and asked me if I was ready to confess. Never, you pigs I said. This hurt the guards’ feelings, so one held me in place, while the other hit me in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. I keeled over. They asked then if I was ready to confess yet. I laughed and spit some blood onto their shiny, black shoes. They told me the warden thought this would be the way I reacted. They told me the warden wanted to see me. They picked me up and dragged me out of my cell, and all the other prisoners hooted and hollered for me, and banged against the bars of their own cells. I was their hero for never confessing, even after every one of them had. We were all in on the same crime. At the warden’s office, I was told to sit down in the nice leather chair in front of the warden’s desk. The warden told the guards to leave us, and they did. Peter, why are you doing this, why won’t you just confess the warden said. Wilson, you know I can never confess to that I said. How did you know my name the warden said. I know all about you, Wilson I said. I know all about you and your confessions. The warden looked at me for a moment. Well, Peter, maybe there’s some sort of agreement we can reach the warden said, your confession for the freedom of you and all your cohorts. That would be the entire prison I said. We sat and stared at each other. The warden’s eyes were glazed over, and he looked as if his mind was in another world, calling for him to join. We were both rabbits down a hole, but the warden didn’t realize this. He thought he was a warden, that we were in a prison, that there were prisoners and guards. We were all just rabbits, cold from the winter and hiding from wolves. I could never confess that to him.

"Every night she waits, she's food for death." -Kristin Naca, from Bird Eating Bird

Emperor

I started building my boat for the fast approaching flood out of back issues of newspapers and twigs. Jason tells me that my boat will never work, that it’s too frail, but he’s making his own boat out of stones, so what does he know. Melissa looked up how to make a boat on the internet, and it looks pretty nice, but it’s miniature. I’m not sure when she will realize that she couldn’t possibly fit in it. We all get together for dinner every night, and give each other updates on how our boats are going. I found a nice, big piece of sandstone. It will make a fine addition for the hull Jason says. I’m almost finished with my boat, but all the little strings that attach to the sails are so little and complicated, I’m afraid my big fingers are too clumsy to place them correctly Melissa says. I sprinkled dust on my boat for insulation, and it made me sneeze I say. We all nod at each other approvingly, but we all secretly think about how little the others know about boat making. This has been going on for years. We’re not sure when that fast approaching flood was supposed to hit. When one of us asks another when they think the flood will come, we always say tomorrow, and we always truly believe that, and we always truly would like to drown in it, if it means we can stay with our boats.

"The shadows, under the tower, in the most brilliant sun will get us nowhere too." -John Berryman, from The Dream Songs

Water Buffalo

As the plane reached it’s cruising altitude, I sat back in my seat, trying not to brush my arm against the person next to me. The person next to me kept glancing over towards me. I noticed this as I kept glancing over towards him. Hey there, my name is Carl the person said. I pretended not to notice and looked out the window. We were heading straight for a wall of cloud. Carl’s the name, how’s it going the person said, lightly tugging at my sleeve. I reached into my backpack and pulled out a magazine about cars. Oh, so I see you like cars the person said. I put that magazine away, and pulled out a magazine about current events. Ah, that revolution is quite terrible; so many lost lives. We entered the wall of cloud with a bit of turbulence, but quickly leveled off. I was sitting by the wing, but I couldn’t see the wing anymore. Carl next to me kept speaking at me, but his words were getting softer and softer. I’m from Albuquerque, my wife’s name is Lynette, we have some dogs, I’m a fence salesman, this trip is business for me, biggest sale of… until I couldn’t hear him anymore. I couldn’t hear the whir of the plane anymore. I looked over towards Carl, but he was slowly fading away. Everything around me was going white like cloud, until there was nothing but whiteness, and complete silence. Here, a shadow came and sat next to me. We talked about current events. We talked about the revolution. We were sitting, but we were upside down, or that’s how my head felt. I missed Carl.