Old Zeke, why do you eat that dung and lie so long on your right side? The philosopher sd that a man w/o a city is either a beast or a god. But you seem like something in between. Turn to your left now. How do you wear your flesh? I am barely here— in the water between us— my lumpy breast and clotted heart like the prairie is a joke on us We aim to be water. Meadow paradiso as American as any tin man; water leaves its traces— an endless turning and slight metallic taste rolling over the tongue.
Garin Cycholl's recent work includes Rx, a novel on practicing medicine without a license during a time of American political upheaval, as well as The Indianan, a play on corruption culture in the New Plains Review.
