“Older brother?” “Not now, I’m busy.” The papers shuffled make a noise like a river on a bank. “Older brother?” “What is it?” “Nothing.” Outside it is dark, and the […]
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Tag: Robin Wyatt Dunn
“Blueblack Pier” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
Sometimes I come out here to think—I’m tempted to say “about death,” but that isn’t socially acceptable, and not quite true. Not even death’s cousin, but there is a resemblance. […]
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“The Burial Begins Slow” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
The burial begins slow, carrying up the earth over the barrow for the devils, each in turn highing their breath and turning over the gravel, staring down into the ditch […]
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“The prison is like a Victorian asylum” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
The prison is like a Victorian asylum, and carefully arranged. The grounds are tastefully laid out, each tree with its own hillock of greeenery and rock, paths intersecting over the […]
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“sky shocked night” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
sky shocked nightterrific lashesturning bright the nails in the coffin of the bluetrembling each one of us appointedlike idle children choosing teamsour regaliaonly ordinary hats and shoesshining the bruised curl […]
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“now in the park july no–” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
now in the park july no– no parks are left. we survive inside the maelstrom of infinity, a glitch inside the program of identity late capitalism–no early capitalism– what is […]
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“Barrow” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
The darkness should be the first clue, like it was not just a memory but an encounter, both in past and present: of the future. Or some thing who remembers […]
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“I guess I never told you about Texas” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
I guess I never told you about Texas, long and sweet in the evening, boiling jelly, about mom’s temperature, stuck in the oven: The best and worst part of the […]
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“The cops have Julia” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
I knew already, struck with the phantasm of a dream that I had taken the reins of my life at last. Like a drowning man finding the hole in the […]
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“45th Parallel” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
We will not subside, for there can be no epiphany; we march into the sand for the egrets, hunting them with our knives. No other faith is real to me […]
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“Ash Lee” by Robin Wyatt Dunn
Come with me, it won’t be far; we have all night, and the seasons with it, in your heart: I’m dying. I’ll tell you about the nearer part of it, […]
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