Spr/Sum 04

On the Internet


I'm searching for a lost river and I find too many different
individuals that link me into a forgotten logic.

There's a grocery store in what I've misspelled—just below
a group of people afraid to read unbuttoned indifference.

I try to summon my mother and other glistening exits
I find strangers that come up on Google with missing teeth—

Wine drinkers are here milling around a party in 1936
a party I could almost be invited to . . .

—footnotes included here are about what . . .

yellowed that night: a dead flamingo, a woman driving
a Cord, photographs of missing pilots on her front seat.

In blind searches I find relatives I met in Carson City
through sepia tone photographs

one with a missing eye—one with hands far away in the night.


William E. Dudley received his MA in Information Science from the University of Arizona and has poetry published or arriving in Hayden's Ferry, Painted Bride Quarterly, & New York Quarterly. He recently studied with Norman Dubie—was homeless.