THE HORN BEEPETH BUT NOT FOR ME by Jim Daniels

— Can I please fucketh you on a stack of Bibles? Let us goeth forth and seeketh that stack of Bibles. Let us proceedeth to various bases. Let us eraseth chalk lines and dismisseth umpires and groundskeepers. Each base, a Bible—thick anchor of holiness. I have never gone forth or fifth into the desert or dessert. Though I have licked the whippéd cream. Though I…

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Though I Have Not Written

  —                           for Johnathan Harvey                          The tops of the city buildings are braced in fog, the night sky cow-poked for blocks and the plains distilled from Des Moines to Chicago. Rooted in concrete, the poplar’s wind-heartened leaves whip at the windowand the white gravel path, littered with goose leavings, blanched and retreating—well, we have seen this before. The dregs of…

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