Doug Paul Case: Is a Cabin in the Middle of Nowhere Still in the Middle of Nowhere
How to maintain interest if I don’t begin with trees
There was smoke until there wasn’t
It’s not always about summer’s arrival
It’s not always about Orion’s belt
Another man’s on the floor
Pulled through still his trousers
Looking like its owner didn’t care where it crumpled
How silent when he turns off the shower
No one ever knows which towel to use
No one ever knows how still to stay waiting
To dress is to ignore how alone you are
Like the Weight Was Part of Me
Can I be afraid I was a twin and didn’t know
Its rationality is my concern rather than believability
Even with a mirror there’s no way to see your face
How everything glimmers under enough fireflies
Two men in a clearing is a city
Just weeks ago there were wildflowers forever
The breeze-blown magnolia is my favorite phase of matter
Water on the verge of boiling a close second
What a night for spiked hot chocolate
What a night for the weight of experience
What a night for Baltic salt and rare metals
Our table can only hold so many candles
Vanilla and similar slow notes
Our table can only hold so much witchcraft
Learn to understand this material semiotic dance
Learn to listen only to the train’s rumbling when it goes
Why would we know what’s going on
Every surrounding is dark or a cricket
I want to put you in charge of keeping me warm
DOUG PAUL CASE lives
in Bloomington, where he recently received his MFA from Indiana University. He is the
poetry editor of Word Riot and author of two chapbooks: Something to Hide My
Face In (Seven Kitchens, 2015) and College Town (Porkbelly Press, 2015).
His work has recently appeared in Court Green, Salt Hill, Cosmonauts
Avenue, and Hobart. More from this
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