IT’S NOT AS IF I DON’T KNOW WHAT I NEED TO DO it’s not as if I don’t know what I need to do. …………………………………………………… this beautiful old barn. its owls and mice, musty air, misty pale yellow light … coming through high windows— a musical staff, populous motes singing across the lines. here […]
Noah Zacharin | AN EXPAT’S PLAINT
AN EXPAT’S PLAINT of course such a thing no longer exists. move back? mais si, sans hesitation. with eyes shut, this gyroscope skull turns to where the mountain suckles a living blue and the fleuve moves to salt. “we’re all poets here.” was an ally in every quartier, nights of melody and Brador. nothing I […]
Noah Zacharin | A LITTLE HOMELESS
A LITTLE HOMELESS I look a little homeless, have stopped changing clothes, close-shaving, washing my hair. all that was important is understood now to be without substance, so much vanity, vanity, all is… and it all comes down to a small fire of sterno or elder twigs or birch bark— 12-word poems in charcoal […]