#1
Hollow

When the gas well went up
it burned on the horizon for three days.
I met you at the park each night to watch the flames
and on the third day you propose we search for it,
but before we find it, the fire goes out,
the smoke tapers into one massive black cloud,
we park nearest we can, the next hill, maybe. The gaps
in the barbed wire fence feel ancient, the ground, the trees—they were all swallowing it,
there was the shell of a car on a slope buried in leaves. The sun is dropping
and in the ravine you catch a cascade of porcelain, busted toilets heaved at a mouth in the ground
on the north end of the ravine--an old mining tunnel, half collapsed in a cavernous ruin. Dusk comes quickly,
and deer move across the hanging field over the tunnel, towards the near slope
where more slept, forty or fifty of them, they started as we approached
then calmed, passing in and out of the moonlight near the edge of the trees.
The shooting range down the hill past the run off has gone quiet. We wait.
Trespassing here frightened you, even at night your lungs opened, cool air
in your eyes, for now distant running water is the only sound but then,
as you held your neck aloft, it began--the low whistling from the mouth of the cave,
the tunnel, whatever it was, it was alive with the wind, and fluttering with it, and the deer didn't even seem to notice,
they pass from one end of the clearing to the other, around us, moving and sleeping intermittently
growing calmer with the sound, you propose we lie down, forget all about
the gas well, listen to this new earthly expulsion, the black wind in the black trees in this blue night.

When we get back to the car, there are two men with rifles leaning against their truck
parked right behind ours on the pull off. Warily we step to the road and head towards them.
"You know, when we were young we used to come sit right here and at dusk, bats,
thousands of them came right out of the mouth of the mine, black as oil, and we'd shoot;
it would be hard to miss them... Just wanted to make sure everything was okay."
There weren't so many now, but sitting there on the trunk of the car, watching
the men drive away down across the brook towards the shooting range,
slowly, as if injured, the bats tracked back with first light behind the hills,
back into the ground we'd carved hollow for them.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
#3
Quote by jiminizzle
Hollow

When the gas well went up
it burned on the horizon for three days.
I met you at the park each night to watch the flames
I like the sounds here, I like how they flicker in and out. They are very organic.
and on the third day you propose we search for it,
but before we find it, the fire goes out,
the smoke tapers into one massive black cloud,
we park nearest we can, the next hill, maybe. The gaps
in the barbed wire fence feel ancient, the ground, the trees—they were all swallowing it,
there was the shell of a car on a slope buried in leaves. The sun is dropping
and in the ravine you catch a cascade of porcelain, busted toilets heaved at a mouth in the ground
on the north end of the ravine--an old mining tunnel, half collapsed in a cavernous ruin.
Love all these broken things, and that the fence is the only thing that feels old, gives a specific suburban/human setting
Dusk comes quickly,
and deer move across the hanging field over the tunnel, towards the near slope
where more slept, forty or fifty of them, they started as we approached
then calmed, passing in and out of the moonlight near the edge of the trees.
The shooting range down the hill past the run off has gone quiet. We wait.
This is such an interesting detail, but I can't explain why, I think its just so different from all the other scenery, or maybe there's something particularly tangible about it. It adds a whole new dimension that I think I'd like to see a few more nods to, as I'm not sure what it is about it I'm not sure what that means.
Trespassing here frightened you, even at night your lungs opened, cool air
in your eyes, for now distant running water is the only sound but then,
as you held your neck aloft, it began--the low whistling from the mouth of the cave,
the tunnel, whatever it was, it was alive with the wind, and fluttering with it, and the deer didn't even seem to notice,
they pass from one end of the clearing to the other, around us, moving and sleeping intermittently
growing calmer with the sound, you propose we lie down, forget all about
the gas well, listen to this new earthly expulsion, the black wind in the black trees in this blue night.
Nice detail, tying the "black" back in, I guess it was never about the gas well, was it?

When we get back to the car, there are two men with rifles leaning against their truck
parked right behind ours on the pull off. Warily we step to the road and head towards them.
"You know, when we were young we used to come sit right here and at dusk, bats,
thousands of them came right out of the mouth of the mine, black as oil, and we'd shoot;
it would be hard to miss them... Just wanted to make sure everything was okay."
Not sure about the ellipses, maybe a line break instead? That is a very me nitpick though. I don't normally get on very well with written speech if it isn't the main focus of a piece, but you've made it work here for me.
There weren't so many now, but sitting there on the trunk of the car, watching
the men drive away down across the brook towards the shooting range,
slowly, as if injured, the bats tracked back with first light behind the hills,
back into the ground we'd carved hollow for them.


I've always liked these stream of conscious/narrative pieces of yours, I don't think I've ever gone through one before though, so I hope this is of some use.