Contributor: JD DeHart

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Pardon me, imminent author
It seems there is a stitch
running through your fabric

I’ve seen these words before
on the graven images of others,
fragments of their imagination

It seems to be a reconsidered
constellation, a mixture of past
and where we’ve been

Spots of light that promise
much until our crash landing
arrival —

But then we are creatures
of habit and nostalgia, rooted
in our history, reaching forward

with fingers that, ultimately,
curl back, rooting our rhizomatic
founding of seasonal identity.


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I have a new book of poetry, A Five-Year Journey, just published by Dreaming Big Publications.