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Nicholas Grider

By September 26th, 2020No Comments

from Small Fires of the Near Future




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







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


[                       ]




slowly removed, like a prologue or a fingernail







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.