A.J. Huffman
Micropoetry by A.J. Huffman | #thesideshow
October 17, 2016
Alex Schumacher
Breadcrumbs from the Void #22 A Foot(Slammed) in the Door | Alex Schumacher
October 19, 2016

Evan Anderson

2 Haikus:

Autumn Rain

An orange carpet turned
upside down in the sky. The
smell of attic air.

The Summer Tide at Dusk

The earth gives violent
birth to the ocean. The moon—
a tender father.



Nighttime on the Bayou

The bayou skin is ripped open—
edematous barbs of catfish fins paint bleeding lines of sunset. I hope
for such beauty in my wounds.

Green growth stitches
over hemolytic skin. The bayou heals
while the catfish are sleeping.



We, two circles
meeting upon a virgin page
pressing the arc
        of our shaven and goose bumped bellies
to a tangent.

We, two boundaries
coming and not becoming and
careful not to show
our edges
to the universe.

Even so we
with backs exposed to something                          unkind
pressed together into this pregnant third shape
like an eyeball
growing within the expanse of our intersection.

And now we feel that boundless boundary and the watery weight of infinite, untouched points
beyond our withering geometry.

Evan Anderson

Evan Anderson lives and writes in a bowl of a city, surrounded by swamps and brimming with stories and music. He is online at www.evanmichaelanderson.com