Objects in Mirror

<p><em>to be a son is to hold the gun. the bullet's in your name but you never knew where to point it we're halfway / through kansas and i'm making some suggestions.</em></p><p><br></p><p>Hemmed in by highways going nowhere and the men who disappear down them <em>Objects in Mirror</em> builds an American body out of country music and familial grief. In these poems the dog dies then dies again the car un-crashes itself and familiar radio noises lure brothers away from one another and into the restless west.</p>