i. as crash
dreaming
leaves me very:
sulked it about
faced it
to things into eyes
to something
not the pause)
to dialects
a just published
drum
ii. the metal
a cheap truck
beside the
waters through
her freeway
so memorized to
film had had
a kid who wrote air
in licorice scraps
through the town's sheets
over factory parents
my town's a chain
of eyes
iii. capital
class, the vague
absence undead ranted shoe
door paper around lawns
I was a metal poem
sandwiched around
a robotic front
asleep in my throat
of naked suns
irony: covered lights
hopscotched
I made a gesture
in this trapped shadow
of runway radios I biked
into words
iv. across
orange or one in came Sunday
stupid over in a way
things churned shallow or the
head: I fueled a cartoon going
past never mind:
cigarette chaos
washing a bridge's voice
to couple into
a cold kitchen back sounded
brought a lost brain
Mr. Language
is stoned
v. my mean sky
we have a hole in syllables like
someone died or was erased
into streets of migration
field windows for the now
soaked bare I was
a paper bridge
a paused truck
crashing
"Ethan Has Nowhere To Go" was a short story written by Jeremy Hight. It was about to be published when he pulled it. It will never be published. These solicited works are Ethan. These works are the story.
The text exists only to be used as a nameless trigger, as a bit of back end, like HTML code.
Keith Higginbotham lives in Columbia, South Carolina. He is the author of Calibration (Argotist Ebooks, 2011), Theme From Next Date (Ten Pages Press, 2011), Prosaic Suburban Commercial (Eratio Editions, 2010), and Carrying the Air on a Stick (The Runaway Spoon Press, 1995).
He used collage and cut-up techniques to turn Jeremy's story into the poem "Ethan."
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