SHE’S GOT SONS OLDER THAN YOU:
This is it
the home movie
of our life—
flick flick
flickering
past
s-t-o-p m-o-t-i-o-n
s
t
t
utters.
and all the old
photographs
of who we used to
be
standing next to her
kind wrinkled smile
hairless scalp quietly
tells the story…
“This is the last picture of
my mother,”
I light her cigarette.
We are all these things
and more:
a shook up wasp nest of
contradictions.
Ascendant in the sun
transcendent
astral above ourselves;
all the little threads that
bind us—where they
come from and where
they go—
laid bare.
We are all the people
we used to be,
and all those we
will become:
I AM ME WHO WANTED TO DIE
I AM ME WHO WANTED TO TELL
HER “I LOVE YOU’
I AM ME WHO WANTED TO BREAK,
STRANGLE AND DESECRATE
it’s not some dark romance: it’s reality
and it’s cruelly the best thing
that’ll happen to you.
Nate Witham is a monstrous mountain man from Montana: with venison tendons in his teeth and the word in his gut. He resides in Bellingham, WA these days–adding a good dose of hippie to the redneck. Poetry is the gristle of his meat, but lately he’s been trying on some longer forms; playing with prose as it were. Nate’s work is grounded very much in physical reality, but only to serve as a platform for externalized introspection; taking a long look in the mirror, and getting lost in his pores.
work to a calm 