Contributor Notes

Justin Hardecker

Justin Hardecker




without a ripple



ready for the end but

too weak to bring it through

we fight ourselves toothless and repeating


through unending settings

and risings of one angry red



the clouds begin to pull themselves

out of the flat sky and crawl

overland toward us


I become small and small

compressing pumps filters repositories

cables and transformer


until the longing clinging like a shadow

is left nothing to hold

and I slip through its fingers








          is a question

nothing so split can resist

the cry for justification


without ever being more

than one side of the thing

what do we expect


we are not talking about a wristwatch








largely a failure

that’s okay


thinking it’s time I

came back in anyway


it will come out fine

it will come out fingers


I thought I had found something

but what then       who’s got it


what grace this is

eluding me


what empty fingers

empty o


hello night