Wow, it’s loud down here, so loud the air is
Rattled. These hissing trees, the insect din,
Can’t shake devotion on holy things, the spark
Of crickets so loud the air is stunned, windy
The leaves’ applause redoubled by clapping
Wings of crows. Who with a whispered psalm
Can outvoice their huckster cackle, the trees
Blustered to howls while the Edison bees
Whine loudly to the charged air? Who can
Think of heaven in such shrill, such squall
Wind of trees, crow wings and throats in full
Fracas, the dragonfly static, the air dumb with
The shrieks of devils, of angels, who in such
Gale can think of anything but heaven?

…

G. E. Schwartz, lives in Upstate New York (Wenrohronon lands), and is the author of Only Others Are (LEGIBLE PRESS), THINKING IN TONGUES (Hank’s Loose Gravel Press), Odd Fish (Argotist Press), Murmurations (Foothills Press), and The Very Light We Reach for (LEGIBLE PRESS), & work in The Brooklyn Rail, Alaska Review, Ghost City, & Fracture, among others, and he’s in the band The Solomons… recordings at Bandcamp.