THREE DAYS AFTER HE WAS MURDERED, RICHARD PRATT BEGAN TO FEEL MUCH BETTER...
A seemingly random act of violence propels Professor Richard Pratt into The Hereafter. It is a strange, muted, netherworld of the dead-a world in which he is forced to bear...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There is a fragility in this life. This whole feet on the ground and time passing by and the wind in your hair thing. I remember it once felt solid, like a well built bridge. But now I see there are flaws in the design.
Wings are brittle things— beautiful patterns in powder easily smudged or pecked by hungry birds. Lost battles that leave us flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing, on wintry morning pavement.
And I would have spared us this, my love. I would have found a high branch for us, or deep grass, or a pocket in your over-sized shirt. I would have stayed asleep holding your hand on my pillow— my steady guardian at the mouth of the cave.
Alas, we cannot bend space, and we cannot turn back time. If we could, I would fold heaven and earth into a clumsy paper airplane that we could hurl at light speed around the sun. We'd build a suit of armor out of our desire. You would vibrate inside of me, while your endless song fills my naked need.
—Excerpt from "Before the Fall" by Keith Woo, as it appears in "The Heavy Work of Vanishing: The Collected Poetry of Keith Woo," edited by Pi'ilani Kilani, page 241.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
