A Horror Poetics by Egan Walker
Wet green light and no voicemail. Fog across the first long-distance telephone line. I wish I knew you better than I know you. Red over rock. Sometimes salmon fighting upriver. Sometimes poem afraid of river. Sometimes it is dark and you want an answer and sometimes vision gets no better. My river my man. My man my girl. Me dead in the silt. You hard white granite. Nothing like it. Nothing better. There’s movies and there’s painting and there’s singing folk songs at night and then there’s me with my computer writing to you in the dark. And you the computer heavy in the dark of the world. I love you. I write you down. I sing. And sometimes you sing back rocks.