Frostwriting

TRAVELING THE WAY I’VE TRAVELED

by Justin Dodd

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1.
Moving south, the trees flicker, drawl: I search for trouble
through the windshield——along the creek beds. Boys range the
thickets, parks, rest stops——anonymous as oaks. No thoughts of disease or cure.

2.
Telephone poles stampede: a cardinal scatter of lines——
Field mice snick through the blade-weed. Born for the claw
and the beak, they mime their passions, laugh between attacks.


3.
In the expanse that is thought on expanse, there are only two
points: infinity, enclosure——the letter I mail him over and over.

 

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Issue 12 contents

Poetry