Nicholas Grider

from Small Fires of the Near Future

1.

///

 

Trust your confusion, it might be kashrut

 

the storyteller is still asleep, the word conditions is not relevant to the ongoing, the helical, premature repentance

 

soliloquy no longer being an option

 

will be or shall have been

 

whose voice is this, and under what conditions

 

[                       ]

 

at least today’s storm is thorough

 

some new or gently used

 

an aluminum railing in the throat

 

 

 

2.

///

 

Sleep is not God and not just the future anymore but Eurydice was a magnet, Orpheus was part should and part never, or if lyre than, wait wrong synagogue

 

wrong neckerchief

 

don’t tell me everything I might want to know, Moshe

 

you know what the color blue means, you know why lemons are sour

 

[                       ]

 

Technicolor

 

slowly removed, like a prologue or a fingernail

 

 

 

3.

///

 

There must be––please don’t this is no arrow––angelic silence––she holds you by the face and of course you kneel, dear reader, Moshe, mister––

 

who are you

 

there must be a reason for all this unspecified choking

 

[                       ]

 

not just the world is illuminated

 

only the redacted is on fire

 

 

 

 

Nicholas Grider is a writer, artist, and musician whose books, the story collection Misadventure (A Strange Object) and odd things Thirty Pie Charts (Gauss PDF) and Get Excited (Imipolex). His work has appeared in Caketrain, Conjunctions, DIAGRAM, Guernica and other publications.  He currently lives in Milwaukee, where he’s nebulously in school again trying to decide whether to apply to grad school in neuroscience or classical composition.