Indiana from Alyosha by Joshua Powell

From the salvage yard, there are two black dogs who run
through the post-harvest fields of winter wheat as stalks
running on last legs

From the GM plant and the empty storefronts’ lull
all the finches, quick, are undressed inside their song
of a sad place to love

Well the houses are matchsticks after everyone left
but the soil is good and we’re not dead yet

Open up the motorbike/burning down the turnpike
Perfect lines, effortless

Keep me in your hidden thoughts/where every road that ever crossed
had council held with the snow/resting easy—this is home


This is home

With the husk of Delco heavy in the loom
will there always be as many empty rooms
or eyes?

• Rock
• indie rock
• melodic-metalcore
• metalcore
• post-hardcore
• shoegaze
• Indianapolis