Big Water
by Charles Musser
we tumble down
gitchigume's dunes
like jack pine logs
plume of sand rooster tail
raw-raked naked
spitting blood
she looms
before a surge
of combers
a headwhip back
at sun at moon foam cough
from sere lungs
then splits
zinnober waves knifes out
to breakers again and again
I carry ferns ripped
by root
past the high tide line a cant of heart
through seagulls wild
to tear Superior's hem
one moment quiet the next
a peal
of brass hammers
knocking skull
pinned between glacial
sands below
virid waves above
at last in numbing quiet then fumble
for the surface
stand upright on stones
slick as oil
we are
a butterbur bloom
of nerves
a twined timber-slant an agony of air
that jibes through the moon's mouth
in silver whorls
Maintained or neglected, familiar or foreign, well-worn or wild, roadways inform our decisions and identities. Their geographies direct the movement
of our lives and sketch the cartography of our stories. In this spirit, 322 Review publishes provocative emerging and established artists whose fiction,
creative nonfiction, poetry, and mixed media artwork wander the paths of human experience. A nonprofit literary journal conceived
and operated by former Rowan University graduate students, 322 Review is based in Southern New Jersey.
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