Brandon Bourgeois

Fugue

Lives like grains in a mound
of burning sand
painfully numbered in outstretched palms
half hoping
for melting ice
half hoping
for wind

Lives as clumps of snow
from war at thresholds
crushed throughout
intricate beds of worn soles

Lives like integers.

---like table crumbs variegated
pocket lint pasted between unwashed
and wounded toes once
clutching green blades glinting
in fields now a land
of waste erst a salve and
salvation handled formerly with care
by numberless erstwhile folk
who owned and tended
to nurseries
some cursing
some blessing
half hoping
half hoping

Next: To Wendy

Previous: From Some Orphaned Words

volume III, issue 1
autumn 2007

Gordian Knot takes a Long Hard Look at its Prospects
Ben Platt

Confessions of an Alpha Cook
Italia Patti

Within Our Orbit: A Space Manifesto
Ben Platt

36 Truths, 1 Lie
J. B.

Brunei, Inc.
Sadie Radford (SERIOUS) & Zach Stevens (SATIRICAL)

Aesthetics of Riotology
Kimberly Sutton

Analysis
Seth Mayer

My Love Affair with Fanfiction
Daniel Postilnik

My Trip Through La La Land
Zach Wehrwein

Poetry & Fiction