June 27 Deadwood, SD
God has more surprises. The sun is not hot. Stars are
not light. Grass appears to bend, is rigid. I send away
grief. I want change. Want it good; the back forth of
seesawing guilt, the black-white of yearning. The earth
is mud-scarred red and green. This is what desire feels
like, it’s our slow-wicked last chance. From here we can
touch the end of the world, jagged and dull; God is not
finished with us
June 30 Pierre, SD
This is where the blue begins, where the sun clang clangs
against the sky. This is where the storm begins, raw heat
of lightning, the thick brogue of thunder. This is the flat-
black of motion, the blinking of eyes. We are a wayward
thread in a worn sweater, an almost closed door. When it’s
over we’ll be flax-winged and overflowing, we’ll be pock
-marked with stars before we crash to earth.
by Alex Stolis
