The angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed.
– Walter Benjamin

Engraved in tongueless, earless days
that bleed the brackish sky,
the angel stood, a dissonance,
its utterance—demesne.

a hole cut deep beneath the skin
chisel of hope. against the bone

A breathward arc, the voice
unreins its transitivity
that razes graven artifice
to raise a binding sigh.

a hole cut deep beneath the skin
chisel of hope against the bone

Syndesis stiches deep to deep,
and ear to brain to tongue
within the limits of the skull—
be capable of him?

…

Eric T. Racher lives in Riga, Latvia. His work has appeared in Socrates on the Beach, minor literature[s], Exacting Clam, Berfrois, ballast, and elsewhere.