Alec Hershman
Time Lapse Acid Rain
Cover Art: Paul Caponigro, "Bloomfield, N.Y." 1957, Gelatin Silver Print, SFMOMA
Time Lapse Acid Rain
From the slightliest forfeitures
of my wallowing, to the deadliest finishings of my rank, I lace the room with bourbon air, and shave the guests with scraps of light in a glass. Forcefields have been a myth, but also a convenience. As a kid, I left myself, of course, now and then. Walls where were walls, and some where were not: I saw a train drag its file of skimpy beds across Kentucky, and wound up with miles of leftover aluminum. I saw a fountain in a corporate park, and knew the point of being homeless was to be alone. Vacancies are slender, and ubiquitous: coffee on a tooth, hard water sucking color from a dock. The whole city rides atop a decade's broken wave, in an eye I shut and then reopen, melted and rebuilt. |
Alec Hershman lives in Michigan. He is the author of The Egg Goes Under (Seven Kitchens Press, 2017), and Permanent and Wonderful Storage (Seven Kitchens Press, 2019), recipient of the Robin Becker Chapbook Prize. He has received awards from the KHN Center for the Arts, The Jentel Foundation, The St. Louis Regional Arts Commission, VCCA, and The Institute for Sustainable Living, Art, and Natural Design. You can find his poems in recent issues of Denver Quarterly, Columbia, 2 Bridges Review, Crab Creek Review, AMP, and through links to his work online at alechershmanpoetry.com.
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