Not For Profit/For Prophecy


family history

Two poems by Preston Smith

Uncanny Projections

(“sunrise_01-02-07” by deb roby is licensed under CC BY 2.0 

I haven’t visited grandma much
but we dance in astral meadows.

Mom calls one day, I’m knee-deep
in books, says grandma is seeing

her father, hearing brackish hymns
in her bedroom where my grandpa

has not slept in months. I do not see
her that night, only lilacs glinting

in a burnt orange sunset. What?
she yells and I hear her from years

away. Mom calls one final time,
grandpa cannot handle her screams

for voices he cannot hear, and I sip
black tea and slumber, meet her

again in the meadows where lilacs
now burn and the sky now weeps

Continue reading “Two poems by Preston Smith”

Stave in the Autobiography of Sidney Ashe Fletcher by James Gifford

The road was cunning under the tires, slipping and pulling as I turned onto the forest service road beside Stave Lake. I was crunching over the gravel with plumes of dust filling the air behind me. It smelt more like desiccated mud than grit or ash. It was hot for May, and I had no idea where the road would lead. I was between two guides: the GPS and a nineteenth century memoir exhumed from the archives. Both were illuminating the screen of my phone, and I was alternating between the two when I would pause.

            1890 – As I learned more of the country and surroundings I realized what wonderful fishing and shooting was to be had in the different lakes and streams not far distant from the City. The Pitt River, the Lillooet River, the Stave and Harrison Rivers, and the lakes from which they came, although well known to the timber cruiser and trapper, had not yet been explored by the great majority of the young men of the City. Continue reading “Stave in the Autobiography of Sidney Ashe Fletcher by James Gifford”

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