casey rearick


a book you would grab in case of a fire: Through These Eyes, the poetry of C. Allen Rearick.

everything else can burn.

So The Story Goes.

We slip like summer
into fall

the iambic sound
of changing seasons
beats idly in our eyes

I can feel a curiosity
written deep
in awkward cursive longing

it separates our lives
like semi-colons
locked within a fight
for independence

the very letters
of our lies
pulse ballpoint reds
underneath our boiling skin
and leaves an element 
of ardent orange
peeling in our stomachs
as we wait
for winter’s warmth
to quell this sweeping