Clinging to a garden wall, I warn axes going up across the field to go dark, to burn far less. They have control of everything and really only answer to themselves. In a crazy manner, I crash into a crab harvest, shooting meteoric patterns of color over schoolroom windows. As the world loses doors with sweet adieu, I exhibit paintings inspired by parties on the beach. Fishing for bees amid rip currents is my life. I love its tracks, its splashy native language of redemption and grace. For the first time, I see lighthouses, courtesy of the waves, downright embarrassed of themselves. — CLIFF SAUNDERS
Cliff Saunders is the author of several poetry chapbooks, including Mapping the Asphalt Meadows (Slipstream Publications) and This Candescent World (Runaway Spoon Press). He lives in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and his poems have appeared recently in The Midwest Quarterly, Plainsongs, Book of Matches and more.