by Anders Howerton



“What else are you supposed to do when your wife dies?”
– Sabato Rodia on building the Watts Towers


for parallax. Come in
out of the fine and
fire-raped hills.

The eyes of the dead
took me up to the abandoning
place where my body
and now must let
your story out.
I am of the living,
laughing. It’s not funny.
Like the bats of the river,
gone before they would
lure you in.
I see them but
I see them: a blinking
Faustus with an empty
scabbard and a guillotine.
Yes, close. Make me a sign,
neon, attentive walker.
You are an animal
moving gracefully
along the footpaths
of forgotten thoughts.
It need not make sense.

You are stuck in my throat,
scandal. Clarinet and my hands
in her. Take me to the abandoning.

Anders Howerton

ANDERS HOWERTON   is a writer of fiction, poetry, computer code, and sometimes combinations of all three. Thematically, he’s interested in the intersection of the organic and the synthetic, and he's often excited by similarities between code and poetry. At one time he was the seventh-ranked, amateur, female featherweight boxer in the country; he is no longer a featherweight. Anders lives and works in Oakland, California.


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