Dust Town

Summer, 2019 / No. 43

When he got shot he was holding a rifle and standing on the roof of the old saloon pointing the thing right at me. With a scream he hurled himself off the edge of the wooden building and landed on his back on the boardwalk below. A hush crept over the noontime street. A cloud of dust rolled right through it.

Michael e. Casteels wrestles with robots in existential-crisis, dinosaurs that refuse extinction, alphabets in various stages of explosion/implosion, and many other serious topics, like century-long bus rides, and the way the clouds look right now. His first collection of poetry is The Last White House at the End of the Row of White Houses. He runs Puddles of Sky Press. Last updated summer, 2019.