Potential Titles: Russell Brakefield

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The cicadas have won over the echo - Russell Brakefield "After the Labor Day Procession"

The miniature moon of some perfect little planet - Russell Brakefield "After the Labor Day Procession"

And on through reels of inheritance - Russell Brakefield "The Ballad Form"

That doesn't move for fear of standing still - Russell Brakefield "Distances Between the Head and Chest"

Their shadows dwindled to bare and patchy masses - Russell Brakefield "Effigy"

All the yards torn by their green rust beings - Russell Brakefield "Effigy"

All forgotten beasts are left to forage - Russell Brakefield "Effigy"

So that my dreams embark in engravings - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Best not to know the cooling kettle - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

A highball of history and radio - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Bodies shaken out of all but stars - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Troves of lost sons from the old world - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

I organize on vinyl and per diems - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Burns needle rags into the brain - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

The wind plays tricks on the eyes - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Hawks hold up the highway - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

The sudden turn of life on the air - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Cut by the shadow song of theft - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

The lumberjack's alphabet covers loss and leisure - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Swarms with rows of grafted halos - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

All knowledge convict to the body - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

And keeps quiet the worrying wind - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Makes a nest of inbound hulls and masts - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Dock and harbor clap with specters - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Anchors cut by the wind - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Holds a goldmine in the sky - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

A heart attack on the bottom line - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Texas heat stalks me like a question - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

No lead sheet for this lament - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

The night shakes out its own lament - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

And tempts me back out on the road - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

I'm no more minstrel than ghost - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

The shape of a note starts with loss - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Preserve they say and mean repent - Russell Brakefield "Field Recordings"

Language plucked from history's catalogue - Russell Brakefield "Florist's Apprentice, Age 19"

Robs all the brilliant light of the universe - Russell Brakefield "Florist's Apprentice, Age 19"

The horizon sucks at the smokestacks - Russell Brakefield "Gate Keeper"

The buildings splitting in a rapture of foundations - Russell Brakefield "Gate Keeper"

And sell their bodies to the wind - Russell Brakefield "Halcyon and Her Mortal Lover"

Spins in an act of revision - Russell Brakefield "The High and Lonesome Sound: I. Fiddle"

Tangled below the hum of lunar membrane - Russell Brakefield "The High and Lonesome Sound: I. Fiddle"

Traces scars cut deep into the dreamwood - Russell Brakefield "Mackinaw Island"

The swaying commerce of violence - Russell Brakefield "Mackinaw Island"

To cut the knot of narrative - Russell Brakefield "Myth"

Walk towards a faint murmur of water - Russell Brakefield "Myth"

New light waiting just out of reach - Russell Brakefield "Myth"

Other prey too shudders with the light - Russell Brakefield "Pardon, Trout Farm"

Investigating again the mystic - Russell Brakefield "Pardon, Trout Farm"

A cease fire for even the wilder kingdom - Russell Brakefield "Pardon, Trout Farm"

Radio dust stretched across the night sky - Russell Brakefield "The Perseids"

Go out and gather the oldest fires of the universe - Russell Brakefield "The Perseids"

Deeper into the pit of pitch and mesquite - Russell Brakefield "Raccoon Sighting Before Intimacy"

Backlit by a scattered clutch of charcoal - Russell Brakefield "Raccoon Sighting Before Intimacy"

Carved by the slag of too much coffee - Russell Brakefield "Raccoon Sighting Before Intimacy"

Dragged and hung beneath a bone of moon - Russell Brakefield "Rag"

A walk-around dance of rain and dew - Russell Brakefield "Rag"

Towards a mastery of disappearance and creation - Russell Brakefield "Shutter, Lag"

Could not convince me of our separate dreaming - Russell Brakefield "Shutter, Lag"

The thin cycle of streetlamps on pavement - Russell Brakefield "This Is America and We Are Boys"

Ghost hounds back for the scraps - Russell Brakefield "This Is America and We Are Boys"

Count a tornado of slow concessions - Russell Brakefield "This Is America and We Are Boys"

Shorn and hung with sly shadows - Russell Brakefield "This Is America and We Are Boys"

The ribs of March are kicking through - Russell Brakefield "The Way We Learned to Sing"

Opened room enough in the sky for the stars - Russell Brakefield "The Way We Learned to Sing"

Sends a wraith beneath the surface - Russell Brakefield "The Wraith in the Creek"

Draw straws for mercy - Russell Brakefield "The Wraith in the Creek"


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