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:
Still, he can't show me love—
as it is to me.
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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