Joseph Mains

Stomach of the city. As the cutting rock
laced the skin        for a moment

every flower burned by itself.






The Lavender Pit is a mine in Bisbee, Arizona. I've been thinking a lot about that area in my writing lately—kind of as a lens for looking at kinds of American Dreams and how isolating they can be, which seems, to me, paradoxical in that the idea of the American Dream has affected a certain unifying ideal that we can assume about one another. I'm interested in how not-true this idea is, and have been exploring it in my family's history in this country, as well as other folks who've maybe, I feel, been fucked by America in trying to fulfill their American Dream. I point you to the film Harlan County USA (1976), as a germination point.