Sandy Longhorn, a poet I’ve had my eye on for a while, has two poems in the current issue of The Collagist. Here’s the first stanza of “Autobiography as Cartography”:
Years ago, what was given me was this:
a map of my home well folded,
creased along gossamer bloodlines,
faint veins etched in quicksilver
that killed the draftsmen who licked
the poisoned nib to clean.
Go here to read the rest of the poem. I love the work Sandy is doing here — as she describes it, “dealing in the vintage architecture / of memory…” In fact, I’m going to write it down in my trusty moleskine for safekeeping.