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Andrew Braunbhar

Learning Light’s Angles -For my Crane, Angela Luedke Can an arrangement of light be odd? Too many beams coming down at obtuse angles through the east windows. It’s early. We’re in bed. I read poetry to you, quiet. You list your gratitude and ask me what you should wear today.   The streams of sun reach for more—never satisfied, to the African violets I gave you for your birthday, loitering the nightstand, unsure of their placement. We know the lease is running out. Through your small stained glass, glares red light and green light.   My heart beats: stay – leave – stay – leave. The man next door gardens between trees. Trees that often talk to me like old men, their ideas reach in opposite directions. These trees hold birds that hold their own conversations. The birds call to one another, perched on branches connected to trunks. Trunks like those of the torsos of men, men rooted in the ground with sayings like: a bird in hand?   From when I was a boy, I have flown, nesting, now and again, now and again. Of all the birds, I do not want to be a woodpecker, alone and forever knocking. Rather, I want to be a man and stand! A man who responds to your petition to be dipped, and in acquiescence finds himself disappeared in your smile.   Because, there isn’t ever going to be…  As I lay next to you, I ask: What is Light? I haven’t ever had much of anything in hand and wouldn't know what to do with a cage, or where or how to root my life, and what is or isn’t the right thing to say. But from the bed, at an acute angle, I look and still see you: the sun breaks on your nakedness.  jesus christ a super bunny “so God created man in his own image…” Genesis 1:27 -matthew- sometimes in earthquakes bunnies come running out of the ground. this sort-a happened to jesus christ too! but unlike seeing bunnies, his disciples didn’t even believe what they saw. eleven went up to the mountain, they saw him, they worshiped, but they doubted. he told them to baptize in the name of the father, the son, and holy spirit. but he didn’t know what was coming: colorful bunny costumes, scavenger hunts, wicker baskets, and egg painting extravaganzas. -mark- mary m., mary, and salome went to make sure jesus was properly buried. now all sorts of animals return in the spring, so i’m not sure how bunnies hopped-to. either way jesus said go to galie and they fled. they said nothing anymore and were afraid. like bunnies, they were terrified of any other living thing. made them run all over the place. -luke- almost the same group of women see, believe, and tell the apostles. but the apostles don’t believe this time. however, peter checks and is amazed! then there’s the whole road-to-emmaus- scene and jesus ends up breaking bread and giving it to the disciples for them to know him. now we get chocolate shaped easter bunnies, candy eggs, and peeps that we eat once a year to celebrate the resurrection. -john- mary goes by herself in this version. she is crying at the tomb and two angles come down to comfort her. then jesus appears to her and tells her to spread the good word to his disciples. nowadays some girls wear bunny costumes to help them spread their good word. sometimes they even put a fuzzy tail on their tuckus. it makes me wonder: did god ever eat chocolate until he vomited? Splankly The Copa Room, Sands Hotel, Las Vegas January 28, 1966 They probably think, Count Basie! What’s with the name? “I got a horn section whose mystique compares to seeing the Big Apple for the first time. Al Aarons and George “Sonny” Cohn, playing like city lights sparkling to the night’s sky. Wallace Davenport, and Phil Guilbeau who’re at liberty with the chords sliding over their heads. All these trumpets just trying to capture that city skyline at sunset. I’ve Henderson Chambers, who always patiently waits for the plug, to proceeds and playfully pop the line. Al Grey, Grover Mitchell, and Bill Hughess, who all caress the melody like she’s an African Princess. All these gents are screaming sweetly with trombones; as if there could be resolution to Watts. I lead Marshall Royal and Eric Dixon, who’re crying for the harmony as if she could come back all unvarying, as like before. Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis and Charlie Folkes wailing scales to balance the load. All these lips squawking wood winds if only to prove something to themselves—to stand out and be apart of, like getting a grumpy kid to bust out laughing, from the first to the last time. I got a rhythm section whose coda is your head nodding. Freddie Green, Norman Keenan, and Percival “Sonny” Payne swinging the rhythm because they know that the grinning heads, stomping feet, and slapping hands, even through all the smoke, make it matter. And me William, Bill Basie on the keys. Keys that provide for people, keys that Count for my name. Keys that’ve justified me to myself to the world – I stand here – Jazz Royalty earned.”


Andrew Braunbhar is writer, director, and producer who makes art for fun. His work focuses on screenwriting and poetry. Andrew's art strives to provide an active experience of internal questioning and validation. He completed an MFA in 2016 and was an English/ ESL Teacher for seven years before gallivanting back into the trades. Currently, he works as an Independent Insurance Adjuster which allows him to write for at least an hour or two every morning before jumping into adult-jungle-gym time crawling around on residential and commercial properties.


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