lines everywhere

in our path

in our words

in how we touch

each other

and the other

questions on travel:

              who beckons the sun’s return?

              what marks the hour?

              do minutes make it late?

someone told us [the uprooted]

today       your tongue will march backwards

                            it will turn a bow in its nest

and you will go thirsty

unless you learn a new name     for everything

and of your name     once melody

now cog grinding away

in a production     maquina

questions on time:

              are there still seven days?

              or one family with seven names?

where are the lines      we must avoid?

so traps don’t trigger a snag 



a noise      demarcating      sleep from fright

a metal centipede devouring horizons

hides stowaways yearning     needing

to blur lines

we are all stowaways


              we come and depart

swaddled in swaths of wind

and flag

German Dario

German Dario resides in Tempe, Arizona with his wife, two sons, three dogs, a guinea pig, many plants, and sometimes a fish. He has recently published work in Gargoyle Magazine, Anacua Literary Arts Journal, Gyroscope Review, San Pedro River Review, and Into The Void.

NOVUS Literary and Arts Journal
Lebanon, TN