The limit of color is a vacuum sealed secret.
The lighter the pigment, the darker the past
actions, or so it seems. The skin reflects the
opposite angles of these better angels we try
To nurture in the cracked spines we let serve
as our backbones. We have lost our empty
backbones, too afraid of being treated as we
have treated. Afraid. Scared to face the earned
consequences of past ancestry because we
should be. We should be. Ashamed.
Wil Gibson currently lives in Humboldt County, California where the trees are big. He has had 5 collections published by kind people, and has been included in a number of anthologies and lit mags both online and in print, such as Marsh Hawk Review, Button Poetry, Midwestern Gothic, Drunk in a Midnight Choir, Yellow Chair Review and more.You can find links to books and more info at wilgibson.com.
