Eric Weinstein Click to

eweinstein-235Eric Weinstein’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Alaska Quarterly Review, The Believer, Crazyhorse, The New Yorker, Ploughshares, The Yale Review and others.  He lives in New York City.

Click to hear Eric Weinstein read his poem, “Petrichor”

The Russians seeded     the clouds
over Belarus    the morning after

Chernobyl     the forest
for thirty kilometers round in a ring

bloomed a terrible red and died     for thirty
years or so it’s always been this way

Short memory ours     and the Hell
of it is that morning the rain

coming down the way rain comes down
from the naked knowledge of clouds

Did not glow     did not heat the backs
of cattle or factory men     minor monsters

who walk the earth     but like the nuclear
shadows at Hiroshima     hissed into the dirt

burnt whole histories there     and smelled
exactly exactly exactly     exactly the same


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