Photo by Hunter Jessie Deuel. From Pinterest I still have the fishingknife he dropped offin the parking lot ofthe Greyhound station. An initialed knife with aleather handle and skeletalwhite blade that doesn’t belongto anyone, not even the Marines. George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications […]
Is This How I Wanted it to Go?
A forest away from the pulsationsof thinking. A forest still as raindrops falling off red pine needles.My ancestors. In this forest.I am not alive, in this forest.I know as a ghost knows,a lovely, fragile, shale hunger returning broken from my handshung between the womb andwilderness,as it is born, a great disk-shapedsystem of gas, an accident of the cosmos. George Cassidy Payne is […]
Despite my urgent need to tap into somethingthat is necessary for my time, I am left with a visionof numbers. My pagan blood and sleeping momentson the beach. Why do I still want to be Jimmy Buffett? Idle and brutal from all eternity, like Rimbaud, sittingon a park bench with my two best friends.The wind blowing. The day glowing. […]