Craig Foltz


To know the difference between an object
and another object is to place long reeds
of grass between your teeth. The value of simple

tasks like decomposition become a complicated
thing when viewed through this prism. A man sits in
a chair by the window and waits. Another man

leaves the hospital with one less lung. Chained
to the alignment of identity. Stars, perusal. One
of us, I can’t be sure who, parades around the living

room wearing nothing but a belt. The other one
makes sense of the world by blotting out the spines
of books. Raw experience is better than raw

sugar. Traditional modes of thought will not help
you cross a minefield. One of us is a recombination
of simple ingredients. Root vegetables, creepers.

The other is little more than two dusty asteroids
drifting aimlessly in space. Games of chance will not
assist our breathing. The first item is not stated. The

second item is expressed by compound verbs and
their associated sales figures. We go to a beach
but we do not experience the ocean. Pods of whales

emerge from the water to hector the impression
we omitted. Abused and topless. By the time we finally
settle on this happy occasion, it will be time for them to go.



By Craig Foltz

(US/NZ) is a writer & visual artist whose work has appeared in numerous journals, anthologies & galleries. His collection of poetry LOCALS ONLY was published by Compound Press in 2020, and he has previously released two books on Ugly Duckling Presse. He currently lives & works in New Plymouth, pinched between the wild & remote west coast & Mt Taranaki.