8 | pete knight



safe place
perfect enough
never enough

leave me to my
abandoned Chi-Chi’s
and weed no more

not enough America, right?
not enough country
so things repeat

forgiveness is uncertain
so complete the square
and show your work

running out of corners
seeing stars
cropping the daguerreotype

no excuse for a simile
reasons collect in pools
mirrors line the hallways

there was always a name
probably a joke
born of clouded trousers

the finish makes a noise
a grain removed
her gasp, reverberates

so how do you know?
something embroidered
the light, compared

words in some different language
probably never frozen
music to the fucking ears

wooden bridges
flower petals
all that jazz

night is right, alright
all you can see, my dear
is the crackling


pete knight is a poet and amateur biologist who lives in a drafty one-room cabin north of Fairbanks, Alaska. In an alternate dystopian future he has been recognized as the modern day equivalent of Carl Sandburg.