"Three of hearts," the demon says. He's lounging on Joseph's bed, deck of cards in his hands and shirt riding up over his stomach. He glances up, fangs flashing in a bright grin as if he can feel ... [+]
Poetry
Nature
Melancholy
1 min
Mature Audience
Michigan State University Libraries call for submissions on the theme of "Home," in coordination with the MSU Board of Art Museum's exhibit, "Where We Dwell."
On the Edge of Detroit
Jim Daniels’ recent books include "Gun/Shy," Wayne State University Press, "The Perp Walk," and "RESPECT: The Poetry of Detroit Music," Michigan State University Press. A native of Detroit, Michigan, he lives in Pittsburgh and teaches in the Alma College low-residency MFA program. Before being published by Short Édition, "On the Edge of Detroit" was accepted as part of Michigan State University Libraries call for submissions on the theme of "Home," in coordination with the MSU Board of Art Museum's exhibit, "Where We Dwell."
In the woods behind Schofield Elementary, skipped over by levelers and pavers bulldozing through to the Further Away, we built nests in the swampy lowlands, the only hiding place for miles. Lush fluorescent algae stink, elusive tadpoles and toads and frogs and rabbits and leaf rustle and boy tussle over the biggest sticks, the heaviest stones. Old trees tall enough to drop dead out of, rampant sprawl of weeds, cattails, stray dogs, rumors of deer, and birds that were not sparrows. Our streets ran straight, new and treeless yet. Our houses stamped out like auto parts our fathers made—count ma