Richard Garcia

Last evening only the color gold could keep me away from you, Little Redwing. Last night’s helium dreams sizzled on my tongue as December extinguished itself in fretless smoke. I was not the only somnambulist I knew. I remembered the fear of first light. I was drowsy and the wind was long. Pardon me, I said, I am ceasing to exist. I was backlogged and out of stock, my tongue of fondue, my tongue of fondness. Absolving from room to room I did go, searching for you Red Wing, dear exploded dust, strobing little meteor.

Richard Garcia is the author of Rancho Notorious and The Persistence of Objects from BOA Editions. His poems have appeared in The Georgia Review, Ploughshares, and Best American Poetry. He lives in Charleston, SC, and teaches at the Antioch MFA in Creative Writing in Los Angeles. These poems are from the manuscript of his next book, The Other Odyssey, due out this fall from Dream Horse Press.