Tag: Ammon Allred

Light Pollution, Match.com Potlatch No man is an island. Some men are on islands. Some men are on two. Odysseus flicked his phone awake began to type: “Penelope, my darling, I —” Calypso came into the room. Phone disappears into pocket, on silent. Whisper I to you: “Come on the drift of the moon. The light flies from our windows and our streets to space It hits tiny bits of dust, bounces back aground, hits your eyes; hits my eyes.” Or eyes stare at the dull impeded glow of the skies. Penelope marries a suitor. Odysseus moves in with Calypso. Nausicaa sits on the beach; the stars they are shining she thinks and looks up and counts them. Twenty-eight. Twenty-eight points of light, she thinks, how’s that for a metaphor? It’s her twenty eighth birthday, and Odysseus has messaged her. A million pixels of light in her eyes, a picture [...]