New in Air/Light: New poetry by Marci Vogel and Caitlin Thomson
Dear Readers,
Even though summer is (un)officially over, Air/Light is still keeping the party going—the reading party, that is! This week, we’re so, so excited to bring you brand new writing by 2 amazing poets, Marci Vogel and Caitlin Thomson!
We love these poems, and we think you will, too!
✌️
The Editors
“self-portrait with atmospheric river & cougar sighting,” “self-portrait with hummingbird & beaver moon,” “You Don’t Know What You Don’t Know” by Marci Vogel
“self-portrait with hummingbird & beaver moon”
hydrolic brightness i was once
a child constructing kingdoms
of branches & mud. each morning thick pelt
sprouted from my skin, each night i’d
begin again. novembers i stream
toward fullness more being
than industry. it’s said the smallest
of birds flies all night without stopping
departs at dusk with a flock of passerines
arrives the next day on warmer shores. wintering
young birds trace the same ancestral route
years into the future they alight
ruby-throated on the exact day in the exact spot
by what knowledge no one knows.
“Morning Without School” by Caitlin Thomson
A stranger’s daughter waits in the alley, a hat in her hands.
Our calico cat stares at her from his fence post perch. It starts
to rain, lightly. When a blue truck arrives, she enters without words.