Why do we love Jesse Millner’s poems? Dip in just about anywhere in this new collection and you’ll see. But don’t be surprised if the duende follows you home.
Woke up this morning with a headache after dreaming of the Little Bighorn and dead bluecoats floating above a sea of brown creosote. Goodbye, George Armstrong Custer, I’ll see you and your arrow-pierced penis in another dream, but for now I’ve awakened in Florida, the flowered land, and I have a headache. Maybe it was my own eardrums the Sioux women pierced with awls last night so I might truly listen in the world that comes next? excerpted from "Confluence"