c h r i s t o p h e r     k l i n g b e i l

 
 

everywhere you’ve hovered before, I meant to stand


under rainy skies


she said on waking








































everywhere you’ve hovered before, I meant to stand
 

The story as is scaffolding
unfolding in burying down
brunt weight of
tumultuous of us
stacked to topple to
where is the top?
Where is the sea in looking
down into the corral sea
its bones our choral
as auricular
you’ve heard the sound
in pressure upon you
here around thin place
this skeleton in
impressed out
become awake to say
a wake surrounded in
a framework in a way

next








































under rainy skies
 

under rainy skies the dark-haired

girls string violets into their hair



local constellations twisting on un-

raveling loose beyond our naming



in limns laid out each points of light

lined out to see yet to be called

next








































she said on waking
 

do you see the stars

let out through leading

out the sky do you see

a pointillisms speech dis-

connected by impounding

the constellations speak

each so disconnected by

next

CHRISTOPHER KLINGBEIL is from the United States and has lived all over it. While not pursing MFAs at Colorado State and Boise State, he has most recently worked as a government lumberjack, building trails in the US's National Forests. His writing has been published in Slush Pile, ditch, and, once upon a time, received an Honorable Mention in The Atlantic's Student Writing Contest.

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