Full, From the Grave
by Craig Kirchner
The limo, gray
leather seats, typical soft ride seemed to be driving itself. A cool, hushed
feeling of finality and freedom at about 50 per, willing without manipulating,
despite the new rain, the driver barely touching the wheel.
rubbing the small container in his right pant pocket, Colton ponders Coppola’s
Count crossing the ocean, with his boxes of native soil, the ship on autopilot,
sailing itself to the new land, the next red light.
An Altoids tin,
what’s that, three Tbsps. maybe? Alyson sitting next to Colton in her
full-length Victorian and black lipstick, tells him she saw him spoon the dirt
and that she collects clipped nails in a glass case. She keeps it in her room,
and frequently contributes, its major characteristic of course, it is dead,
cut from life.
speaks in unfamiliar tones, never feels quite the same each time he touches it.
Only an hour old, it has become the charm, his luck piece, the heirloom he’ll
never lose, the collection he never had, the never handed-off inheritance that
evolves against his leg, and subtly intimates it will eventually grow something
if given a chance, perhaps help with his sleep.
Craig Kirchner is retired
and thinks of
poetry as hobo art. He loves storytelling and the aesthetics of the paper and
He has had two poems nominated for the
Pushcart, and has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels. He houses 500
books in his office and about 400 poems in a folder on a laptop. These words
tend to keep him straight.
After a writing hiatus he was recently
published in Poetry Quarterly, Decadent Review, New World Writing, Neologism,
The Light Ekphrastic, Unlikely Stories, Wild Violet, Last Stanza, Unbroken,
W-Poesis, The Globe Review, Skinny, Your Impossible Voice, Fairfield Scribes,
Spillwords, WitCraft, Bombfire, Ink in thirds, Ginosko, Last
Leaves, Literary Heist, Blotter, Quail Bell , Ariel Chart, Lit
Shark, Gas, Teach-Write, and has work forthcoming in Cape, Scars,
Yellow Mama, Rundelania, Flora Fiction, Young Ravens, Loud Coffee Press,
Versification, Vine Leaf Press, Edge of Humanity and the Journal of Expressive
Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal lives in California
and works in the mental health field in Los Ángeles. His artwork has appeared over the
years in Medusa’s Kitchen, Nerve Cowboy, The Dope Fiend Daily,
and Rogue Wolf Press, Venus in Scorpio Poetry E-Zine.