An Indefinite Wasteland
A couple of saints got stranded between March and April. The bookstores of yesteryear with cautiously yawning windows slowly get lost in the cold. A nameless dyslexic sun never counts her sins, never laughs, never makes a mistake. Above Ground It takes an afternoon for a sunray to embrace a garter snake. Semibirds restlessly grow water on vacation in the eye-resistant towers. All the planets are curious, no doubt, but afraid to watch. Yeah But It’s a pleasure to sell Lemurian tree stumps on the Pacific shores (free delivery in a week, but you have to pay cash up front). Footprints between the clouds never reveal, never conceal. Bio: Ivan Peledov lives in Colorado. His poems have been recently published in SORTES, Mad Swirl, Arc Magazine, and Angel Rust. He is the author of the book Habits of Totems (Impspired, 2021). He can be found online on Twitter @habitsoftotems or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/ivan.peledov.