from ‘Atlas’ (excerpt one)https://i0.wp.com/barrenmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/89025CF5-2849-4971-A887-4649C3C319F1.jpeg?fit=4032%2C3024&ssl=140323024Glenn BachGlenn Bachhttps://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/c31a14d213ef0cffdab4c6ce42aad201?s=96&d=mm&r=g
Start by emergent terrain over stiles and steps assuming a posture.
Slow more demands on your body for streets lined with trees.
Estimate to the walking and other vegetation take a number of strides.
Follow signs against the wind of a walk described in a leaflet or guide.
Ground dedicated a well-drained path with fog with heavy rain and snow.
Best avoided by people these green spaces and water with universal appeal.
Wire attached to your spine stand tall to carry water mud or sand.
Difficult to see the surface of a walk change with the changing seasons.
Across wet concrete heard in river beds but not seen of shore birds.
Seasons wrong but our motives simple for passerines crowded in the open.
Glenn Bach lives and works in Southern California, with brief stints in Milwaukee and Brooklyn. His long poem, Atlas, has been excerpted in Dusie, jubilat, Otoliths, and others. Glenn publishes an interview blog, Imprintable.org, and documents his other activities at glennbach.com.