Cyrus Console: Brief Under Water

My friend and teacher Cyrus Console has published his first book of poetry/prose from Burning Deck:

Brief Under Water


Below, an excerpt.

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I was sad for the birds. The gym was no kind of sky. The window was too clean to see. The wind feigned injury, circling the nest. The wind's cry was less pained than afraid. The song in the wire sped out through the perfectly empty holes it sped in through, and the hills, the hills rose and fell under the bullets, whose path truer than a line of sight. They are blind. All things are as liquid to them. God grant them a warm breast / to bury their faces. And so on and so forth. Imbecile.