Archives: Issue Four: Spring 2011
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Jay Thompson



Summer Letter



you burn toast in the next room
trying your stockings on

my bank's login window won't save my password
how the same shit still bothers one

how I also live
in others' fantasies

each raindrop appointed
do you believe it

a lamentation from the concrete
a crack in the conscious mind

what did they expect to find with those
first squishy footsteps into this world

what do you say sugar-pigeon

creeper-vine candlelight
your hands are never still

no more silence
how the witness feels safe enough to lie down in

look at these dirty feet
noise of scotch broom shells out the kitchen window

nothing I encounter is anymore its whole self
whole origin though I

know that shape rare silhouette
same whatever I name



Jay Thompson lives in Seattle. His poems and essays have appeared in EOAGH, Pleiades, Mare Nostrum, Poetry Northwest, Country Dog Review and elsewhere. He tutors at King County Jail, publishes Dungeons & Dragons fiction in Pathfinder magazine, and is a member of the Third Space arts collective.