Tag Archives: Bryan S. Way

Digital

I often miss how once you were real. Before you died (you didn’t, but that’s                what I’m telling myself for now) we spoke in regular intervals, and every day the hours were filled with each other. Perhaps not                happily, but … Continue reading

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untitled

We nearly fell in love near Crystal City. Much like a skewer falls in love with slab of meat; much like an empty hole falls in love with unburied corpse. Bryan S. Way just graduated from Bridgewater State University. In … Continue reading

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On the Planks of the Mississippi, Startled by the Hornblower: 1859

Made our way down from the docks, sorry to say I haven’t written more. It’s been a long dive. The steamboats sit in spumy pools & the fish often hawk themselves onboard as though the water were poison. Sometimes I … Continue reading

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Death Was a Poem about Vultures in the Sun

I miss the blackened bones piled on the sidewalk,             stacked in peculiar patterns,             forming shapes that bent in the eve,                                           as dead bodies are rotting poetry.             They had a way of pinging themselves             from velcroed black walls,             sticky as labrador … Continue reading

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mi magnifico

oblong drops of coffee drip down the spine                   of plastic cups. somewhere in between I hear the voices,                   my parents; they call my name but their cries are distanced                   in paper-walled echoes. mother on her knees weeping softly,                   it’s alright … Continue reading

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