Translated With Notes And Commentary

The face on the dust jacket keeps getting older.
Just now a shadow crosses my page and letters peel
in a piano-like sound
or a bird’s whistle magnified to the height
of a crane displaying the Resist flag.
It’s the grateful hours, the hours of gunfire and flies.
Images of home, its evasive circling, red roof
and this turning back, siphoning off daylight…
Still at least we’re free. We have our freedoms!
Look how our enemies hate our freedoms.
They will not be waiting for us long.
O yeah, I can still see the bright purple nebula bursting
as I’m typing this here in a room on the event horizon.
Time itself is a bedraggled old sheriff
with half a swollen
gullet who plucks out green eyes only as I have argued.
The pace we set, institutional and ideological.
Our greater selves living explicitly in travel writing.

David Wyman's first book, Proletariat Sunrise, was published by Kelsay Books in January 2017. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Aurorean, BlazeVOX, Clockwise Cat, Picaroon Poetry, The Voices Project, A Certain Slant, The Wallace Stevens Journal, Old Crow Review, Spout and Green Hills Literary Lantern among other publications. Read other articles by David.