Two Poems: About
    James Grinwis
Video store, web design,
waitress at pub...

The distance is where home is.
I'm most inside when it's distance
I'm walking through.

Two women
looked at the man equivocally.
This is preferable to the mission statement.

On the table the mission
is small and white. The dog on the floor
has a white spot.

The dog's mission
is written on the spot. There is mission
in distance. Complete
in the thing unseen.

Of what to become,
a question of lights.

Two Poems: Beat

    James Grinwis
The beat was an egg smashed on the head of you, the girl who lives next door. No longer are you interested in truth; rather your body stretches all the way north with being. My dog looks at me from between his paws and I see how he's a wolf and doesn't quite know it yet because he's my dog. We are both wolves and we only glimpse that fact from time to time when we're away and alone. The greatest work out there I believe is the work that hammers, the how of the whole thing, how this serves us before and after we're dead. Then it meets us in its whole unripened form. Ferocity isn't a condition, it's the way you grind tooth against tooth. Look, you're hiking up your shorts and the smoke rattling inside your alveoli sounds like the day you dove for pearls in the lagoon of combustion and eels. When did we lose what we loved and how do we know it in the end so we can pause and ask why. The teeth of the umbrella were sharp and they bit down.

James Grinwis' poems have appeared or are forthcoming in such magazines as American Poetry Review, Hayden's Ferry Review, Prairie Schooner, Conduit, and Indiana Review.


In Posse: Potentially, might be ...