Pilot Light
A Journal of 21st Century Poetics and Criticism
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Letter to Gabriel Written in the Margins of Murder Ballads
(Continued from Page 11)
I do not bring you to the river beneath the river
because time ruins, a heresy.

The river erases itself when we need it most, 
dawn inside dawn, tar in the throat of the oak, 
a hermit thrush strange and metallic over 
Jefferson Park repeats the vowels its body carves. 
A fine ash of song too far south. 

A house is taken from the landscape 
and the wind blows stronger 
through that space. 
The body can’t signify 
that kind of vacancy. 
(Continue to Page 13)