From a distance NATHANIEL BRASWELL
At times, staring out of a dirty window is like scorning at heaven. Every night, I watch as low-hanging canopies of crowning amber Recognize the stars, Previewing the canvass On which darkness will paint tonight’s universe. I sit, aggressively indifferent, and yet alive. Screaming at least is breathing. And outside, the sky looms over us, but is only temporary, Like a mountain that loses its magic once climbed. You say, “I am what I make myself!” But the mirror stares back at you with crystalline indifference. A symposium of escape.
agave review • 93
