letters walking target feathers
Is that chair being used, even if neglectfully?
A dry wind blows steam off a silver surface.
She eats. He eats.
It's years since I did that as anything other than a joke.
It's here the line again begins this trembling.
The curtains contain miles of light.
Where did you put it, when I grew tired of it?
At the café we will eat, then walk out with coffee in our hands.
I carried my head in my hands, unable to put it down.
Nobody likes the cat's limp. It's inartful.
A white layer through the midsection.
A mapping, not of the landscape but of pebbles.
Glenn Ingersoll works for the Berkeley Public Library where he hosts
Clearly Meant, a reading & interview series. He has two chapbooks,
City Walks (broken boulder) and Fact (Avantacular). He keeps two
blogs, LoveSettlement and City Walks. Recent work has appeared in
Poetry East, Askew, and Hearty Greetings.