Joshua Auerbach
Ghostland
the river runs dry
the barren land
knotted with thorns
while the women in the labs plan
cracked wheels plough
fields without stalks
or hills without stems
only the appetite of ravens
the yowl of white wolves
it seems not right
this fraught tundra & earth
in smokey glass vials
to open, to split
& we meet in secret
call the river black stone
Page(s) 98
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