Pen Pal

I stole this from some stories you used to tell

something from beyond the memories
of great grandparents & 90s hard drives

a butterfly struggles flaps mad
through the yard

warm morning daguerrotype sunlight
& notes slipped past the censors

the swoop and swirl of phony wood
painted on a tabletop

listen: we drift through high plains
memories from movies
& dry dust surf rock soundtracks

beneath an overturned mason jar
gears drop into that smooth oscillation

how we dance now we dance how we dance

James Brush

James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.

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