There are two means:

a. the man drives an older car for years, forgetting his name


b. the pregnant stop, and everyone you pass has noticed


An undoing is said to follow:

someone else’s breath

stales your tongue




As the bleached-white membrane that

finally cohered to some dull hardness,

it could not be

the upper-lip, the brow, or the nose. It only just

tolerated muscularity–fingernails stand

in clear detail

against the inflated rubber membrane.

Seeing this, the skull wiggles two fingers into the nostrils

and shuts its mouth.


Shoebox of photographs–

your garbage bin

has come down with an animal.


I bury my nose in black, fragrant hair

(wet, paper esophagus).

Elsewhere some cool, unraveling flesh

blares the scent of numeration




The blazer illumined

with nicotine;

The Cadillac


her up


They returned to find

the tree alive

but falling apart

like something

slowly cooked


The gnashed cherry center


her cold fingertips


a magnificent


of television


The house


the vagaries;

The family

had had


Robert Preslar lives in southern Japan. Currently, he teaches at Kyushu Sangyo University and writes prose. His work has appeared in The Spell For Rain literary journal.


Contact: robert.preslar@gmail.com


Cover photo: Erin Hayden erinhayden.tumblr.com