Devil’s Lake

Fall 2015 Issue

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 issue >