by Nicholas Grider


Freeze-framing the not-psychedelic celestial, pausing to apologize to antagonists who say you need to put the wild-tongue manuals down and celebrate blankness, or maybe blankets, high heavens not actually extant tilt slightly to the right, or the ballroom floor of God is level, but first there’s homework, there’s the salt-water taffy of belief

there’s Moorish

there’s revisions to your

there’s the specific maths of safe passage, dense thickets of exit signs

[                        ]

and you don’t even remember how to talk









Nicholas Grider‘s first book, the story collection Misadventure (A Strange Object), was longlisted for the Frank O’Connor Prize, and his work has appeared in Caketrain, Conjunctions, DIAGRAM, Guernica and elsewhere.


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