by Michael Zak

Think about the sound of someone's movement through a forest. I am only being eaten. I am only in a pile of muscle and skin. Veins have an abhorrent texture. When I am alive, the sun moves up one side of the earth, off-axis, glides overhead before a trail of smoke, then lands across the sea. I have memorized the stars that float directly above my clicking eyes.


Michael Zak lives in Chicago. His blog is here.


Anonymous said...


Madam Z said...

This mystical piece does make me "think." We all are "only in a pile of muscle and skin." But the sun and the stars don't care.

Nice work, Michael.

Jessica said...

I love this Michael.