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Slack.com slash DHQ. Now, the new single, columnbarium of souls from

Catherine of the Ping Emperor.

How to like it. A poem by Stephen Dobbins. These are the first days of fall. The wind

at evening smells of roads still to be traveled. While the sound of leaves blowing across

the lawns is like an unsettled feeling in the blood. The desire to get in a car and

just keep driving. A man and a dog to send their front steps. The dog says, let's go downtown.

Get crazy drunk. Let's tip over all the trash cans we can find. This is how dogs deal

with the prospect of change. But in his sense of the season, the man is struck by the

oppressiveness. It was passed. How his memories, which were shifting in fluid, have grown

more solid until it seems he can see remembered faces caught up among the dark places in the

trees. The dog says, let's pick up some girls and just rip off their clothes. Let's dig

holes everywhere. Above his house, the man notices whips of cloud crossing the face

of the moon, like in a movie. He says to himself, a movie about a person leaving on a journey.

He looks down the street to the hills outside of town and finds the cut where the road

heads north. He thinks of driving on that road and a dusty smell of the car heater, which

hasn't been used since last winter. The dog says, let's go down to the diner and sniff

people's legs. Let's stov ourselves on burgers. In the man's mind, the road is empty and

...