Red Dust by Ian Bailey

Mar 4, 2025
1 min read

Red dust

Gathering in the orchestra pit between the strings and brass

A little mound rumbles

Like a town

Conceived by an opus

I am of the town

And bombs were upon us

Our heads hum

On the minute

Like clockwork, they burst

Into a solemn sun

Recent Posts

See All

Becoming What I'm Not by Liza Lane

The grass scratches her legs as she runs through it, chasing her dogs until her feet feel like they’ll give out with another step. She flops onto the grass, lying down and trying to find pictures in t

Birds by Anonymous

Inspired by “Simile” by N. Scott Momaday What did we say to each other That now we are as the birds— Who communicate through songs, Who soar through the sky; With beaked jaws and soft feathers,

The Other Room by Mayme Killeen

They’re talking about me—I know it. Their words fill my ears with honey—thick and sweet and tantalizing. Muffled, though. Only abstract shapes and sounds ring out as if the architect of their conversa

EIDOLON

The