I read one specific email
ifteen times to really feel it
ll the way through,
o let it become part of the texture
f my day.  Sharp red afternoon
aught in leaves, raucous evening wind,
he dark.  The end doesn’t look
r feel like the beginning.
close my eyes
hen they’re worn out
rom being so open.
can forget one specific evening
r four whole years, even your name,
s easily as summer forgets
ime, the blue of July turning
uietly to August.  Now it’s October. 
anguage can fix
ven the most complicated inner
eality.  I go for a walk
& wonder about how to represent
he clouds.  Should I write
hem down so they stop moving?
hould I press hard?
verything I do depends
n outside light. Later
lift my head from the pillow
& the whole room is startling
hite               brighter because infused
ith such deep cold.  I can feel
ir breaking around me.



Everything became serious in spite of our smiles
& the green of the grass & the heft of our kites
s they pinballed between smog, between

uildings & bridges.  These are my feelings.
won’t wait for the birds to depart in their envelopes. 
t’s fall if I say so with a sweater in my voice,

hat tornado scented air in the bottom of my mug.
ith me you get each one of the seasons & also a pen  
hat writes sense in list after list.  Then this auburn

inger curl like an eclipse in the moonlight,
oo pale reminder of all that’s been waiting
o give your blood one little kick.   This is my last chance

or speaking up, to kiss the blue from your lips
& invite you to hold each one of my hands. 
ven if your brow is furrowed in a look of agony,

ven if stretched all the way upstate.  I like it,
hat pressure, the feeling of work.  You’ve earned
he strain that releases.  I could spend all day looking

or just a bit of some sun & when I find it I’ll bring it to you
ike a happy missile ready to detonate all over your face. 
ornings I hear all the quotes on the news, the chirping

xplosive, squares squawking in chorus.  The light
n your limbs is light I’ve provided. This year
hat I’ve lived like a sentence is ended.


Photo by Lauren Henley




NATE PRITTS is founder and editor of H_NGM_N literary journal and H_NGM_N BKS. He earned an MFA from Warren Wilson College and a PhD in creative writing and British Romanticism from the University of Louisiana, Lafayette, in 2003. His full-length collections of poetry include Sensational Spectacular (2007), Honorary Astronaut (2008), The Wonderfull Yeare: a shepherd’s calendar (2010), Big Bright Sun (2010) and Sweet Nothing (2011), Right Now More Than Ever (2012).