Paul Fisher

Letter to a Lost Brother

Forget about the weather
and whether or not the two of us
threw sticks and stones,
or spat words at childhood's bones.

Bribe an angel, tap a message,
smuggle out a sign.
Silence is the granite
I'd roll back from your grave.

In case you don't know, I'm older,
the world's warming,
and we're not on standard time.
In case you care, I'll stay awake

burning this letter
in some windless recess of my brain,
burning till, through the smoke,
your distant planet shines.


A tree made only
of stars
towers above us.

half a drop
of water,

dry --

no thing
but a thought
rattling in an atom,

no ocean
but this notion
split open like a seed.

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