Robert Wrigley

Oct 4, 2024 | terrain.org | Chimezie Chika |Robert Wrigley

Having travelled far, I came uponMountains of histories,Dead lakes on which libraries are erected  – Jared Angira, Hitch-Hike  IHe met the white woman on a wet night, along a dark alley which he had taken to bypass the crowded Awka Road. The moon in the sky was cut in half, like a tilted gray disc, the weak light from the sky oscillating between full-blown moonlight and soft darkness.

Mar 1, 2023 | hcn.org | Robert Wrigley

A poem by Robert Wrigley. From the print edition Like Tweet Print Subscribe Donate Now As I bent to pick up a seed-bauble, my soulstaggered down. A chickadee’s comfortblessed my head and heart. The soul will kneel awhile,thank you, the soul shall bask in chickadee balm. The sky being a cloud of blue fish says fly,an atmosphere of water, the fish of the sky says fish,blue at the depth of deep water. Hang on, staggered soul. It’s not like you’re dying.