Category: Dan Raphael

Can’t Get Outside Myself by Dan Raphael There’s a thunder-storm in my stomach, arctic midnight in my heart a muscular wind wanting to push things

The Hole Story by Dan Raphael ”Every now and then I know it’s kinda hard to tell but I’m still alive and well” — Johnny

City Made of Centuries of Breath by Dan Raphael As though the air was glass or ice all but what i’m swimming through the dangerous

Why they call this March when the doors are mostly sleeping by Dan Raphael Texture not a knee blanket or furnace fog in a valley

The Months By Linda Pastan January Contorted by wind, mere armatures for ice or snow, the trees resolve to endure for now, they will leaf

12 Days in December and January by Dan Raphael A farm without chickens A car without stains A day that’s only 24 hours A glass

Reading Anne Carson by Dan Raphael “A place came there and crashed” -Anne Carson when water is a mirror the sur of face, south of

Science Sonnet 1 by Dan Raphael self-impressed enough to go one step further, a thousand feet higher, i never saw calves like that, lavaic bubbles

Foreground by Dan Raphael As if the background is jittery & the subjects hearts arent beating, a vibratory stillness like a traffic jam inside an

From Gray Morning to Grayer Afternoon by Dan Raphael Like a sunset reversed 180, sun going the wrong way on its one way boulevard— you