issue-04 – PSYCHOPOMP.COM

Untitled, by Jayaprakash Satyamurthy

Stand here and become a treeSift the loam with your toesTalk to the birds in your branching mindStand here and […]

I met the bear hunter the night my mother died. I was a hospice care worker myself, though not in

The Indignities of Death We begin life confronted with all manner of indignities and inconveniences: diapers, pants, shoes, etc. The

In the first spring I hide from the plague in a pale rain above Schet-cheet-qua-chub,fading into the timber at the

The Danse Macabre—the Dance of Death—is an iconographic theme that first appears in fifteenth-century European art. It shows skeletons

In this time of masks I can touch only land,open the green book where warm feet wrotelines of desire. I

We learned as each of us came into being that all castles have hearts. This castle has three. We still

               “I tend to refer to most of it as the territory of Ghost Soil. It certainly isn’t a narrow genre.

The scarred man sits on the water fountain ledge with his back turned to me. His hair, long and straight,