Ode to the Pulpit
Updated: Sep 27, 2020
By Zachery Rahn
We go down in Georgia forests
deer can’t live in, on all four wheelers we ride until dusk, blow cattails like dandelions. He tells me Don’t spit me out, don’t spit me out, don’t spit me out. don’t spit spit [it] out out [with] it [don’t out me] In me I was his sinful forest, on Sundays he was a pastor.
Zachery Noah Rahn is a Writing & Linguistics senior at Georgia Southern University. He is the winner of the 2018 Brannen Creative Writing Scholarship, and the 2019 Brittany Ally Harbuck Creative Writing Scholarship at his university. He has pieces published in Miscellany Magazine, Peculiar Journal, and From Whispers to Roars Magazine. He enjoys reading and writing about insects, watching horror movies, visiting theme parks with his friends, and spending time with his dog. When Noah isn't busy typing away at his computer, he can be found in the candy aisle at the grocery store.