By Zac Dunn
Published Issue 122, February 2024

The air is escaping through the vent 

So outside into the snow I went

Looking for the 

old cold little 

boy who was once so 

brutally annoyed

Gazing in the 

vacuum expanding 


Into sublime silence

He would speak of another place

Far away that was the opposite of where we stood

A place of lights and humans and filth and crime 

A place of vice and excess of choices expanded to extensions

Spelled out neon and steel

He spoke of himself tragically

Thrown all alone like a stone 

From his aging folks 

more surprised to see him than them 

Always hungry and ambitious

As the snow falls and I crawl up the block to 

Sprinkle the salt so souls don’t slip

I wonder about the cold night he told me that he disappeared

Somewhere between the Deuce and Penn he said 

The inner aorta of the pulsing ugly thing

That was bigger and badder, kinder and more sublime

Bathed in the torrents of humans like 

The sun chasing the moon rising and falling 

But never recalling where they came from long enough to forget 

Where they were

SANDY would lace his boots and put on a long woolen coat before putting 

The long string that contained his keys around his neck

As he stepped out of the door 

He clutched a tiny hand-painted LEAD KNIGHT for luck

As the flakes coated the granite and tar block leading down 

Woodruff an OWL somehow stopped long enough upon 

A bit of spalted ASH to behold a small person who seemed

So all on his own that for a brief moment the snow and the COLD

Made him utterly disappear 

And swallow him WHOLE 

Zac Dunn is a psycho-social mechanic, father, musician and dreamer. Check out his music and follow him on Twitter Instagram | Tumblr.

Check out Zac’s January Birdy install, ON DOGS AND WHEELS, in case you missed it, or head to our Explore section to see more of his work.