What
would it be to return to what they call home?
That house with
that man,
so thick standing
on the stone porch.
Lawn sparse, parts
brown.
Still couldn't see
his vulnerability.
His was the mouth
that silenced mine.
His image became
my fear of being poor:
alone, broken.
Still, he can't
show me love—
as it is to me.
One Night
Walking in the rain
The drops, more like kisses than tears
in this heat
The warm air; the wind
The palms, calling the storm
Your eyes watch the dog
Thinking of the bus
The music still echoing:
in your mind; in the street behind you
Tomorrow is Sunday
It is so close now, beginning just
miles to the west
Edward Wells II was born in the
United States of America. He is hiding out and helping out in the mountains of
Colorado in-wait to depart for Indonesia, March of 2015. His recent collections
include: Mexico 2009 (2010 Full of
Crow); Thrw: 3 | w (2012 concept;
please press); CO (2013 Pedestrian
Press); They Come From (2014); Anatomical Fugitive Sheets (fictions
accompanied by original paintings by Tom Melsen 2014); Waiting (working title). A collaborative novella with Nicolás Díaz,
Commuter (2014 Fiction Attic) was
also recently published. Meanwhile, Edward's book i Am not Sam: Scribblings from American Samoa is forthcoming from
MadHat Press (2015). Edward began Creative Writing coursework through the
University of Toronto in 2014. He holds a four-year degree in English: Creative
Writing and a two-year Liberal Arts degree.
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