TYLER MILLS
The Air Between the Fingers
Both hands large enough to palm a globe
Weekly poems, selected by the editors. Featuring new work as well as poems from our rich archives.
Both hands large enough to palm a globe
Just as a fishing boat passes
between me and the rising sun
1.
stole guilt from the guilty, became guilty himself
1. The fire hops the 405, the sky
is never blue again
Blessed are we, betrayers of all counterfeit kinships
Sunset purls Lake Fayetteville golden. The margin punctuated with goslings
I have eulogized the dead my entire life, and this has exhausted me.
land spreads / & there is no hilt for hands / to bend mines
You know nothing of the road out, the one where you will never face your perils
the whale washed up on the beach in monte hermoso, dead