two from David C. Porter
Banishment
The burrower falls into the threadbare layer behind the surface, glazed, chewing burlap, tarpaulin, the can of turpentine echoes, washed concrete, crashing comes down. A gelded horse, a banking stable. Here volume erupts over glaze, eyes scuttled, the operating table, the electric light, the smear from the pallid parlor, teeth bent, sticking, the straw turns into hot coal in the mouth, the underneath. Ban- ishment. A month inside the clicking, the spectre, and then the open lake worn weary, behind the marchers, behind the equinox scribes, the bleachers turned away from the game, the gun, the city of clever gold. Here is the hand found clutching the grass. Here will be where the bones lead. The gray ray. Here, perhaps, is the sloping edge.
Heartbreaking Mercy Conglomerate
Nested, ran over arms. Bottle cap fingers rolling coins. Heard of in scant, grouted parts. Last elm drooping upturned, a cranberry gate, the spry altitude’s receiver. In mesh clung fugue the division, made granite and winnowed. December reunion, slack single the barrel splits on the point of first high contact. Ice dangles drooping light from strings of method.
David C. Porter is a writer and photographer from the American northeast. He edits Keep Planning (keep-planning.net), and writes Garden Scenery (https://gardenscenery.net/). His work has also appeared in various other places. His first novel, NTTN, is available now from Organ Bank Industries (https://www.organ.fail/product/nttn/). He can be reached on Twitter @toomuchistrue or via his website (https://davidcporter.net/).
