Tag: Burnside Review Press

  • Detour 40

    40 Three or four drops per minute, the gutter assigns a steep crescendo to the slow, picking wind. Birds give way toward midnight, daybreak, dusk, a gathered loop indistinguishable from a low cloud, a harbinger, a loom–sand-drawn footsteps knotted in something that might resemble a pattern to the right eyes. Above all, cold, and the…