Tag Archives: Christopher R. Vaughan

To the Cyclist

I ran             down Nestor’s stoop to my Sonata             when the bachata thwap             began to smell of backwash I ran             my hand over the dashboard             feeling for rosary beads, keys             third-shift heavy in my fingers I ran             the engine a beat, … Continue reading

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Trying to Stave off Cannibalism After the Sinking of the U.S.S. Indianapolis

Sleep is the humid hiss of mosquitoes in the guts of a carrier ship. Mayday is a lurch and a shattering, dismembering steel and flesh as a foremast twists, buries its cross in the black slick. Oil is a last-ditch … Continue reading

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Radio Milwaukee

Eighty-eight point nine she tunes, across the viaduct and to rapture. Indie twists to soul and grooves “you’ll love” mark borders, mills, fading to black. We voice discarded fears as she turns, adds volume: hope in a format. Christopher R. … Continue reading

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