ISSUE 24: WINTER 2014

Four Poems

  Interiors where no one is, digested by the round eye of the mirror. That is conceit. Our oneiric blither of carnal essences, or images that leap from trapezium. Giving oneself over to traces of dopamine, pleasantly turning manipulandum in this rigorous test of motor skills. Wet in another submission about deserts lacking wet. Asquint through camera obscura inward unveils the prodigal seeking work. Moving, keep moving, jostled by abrogation of space and angered by images of violated auratic, that Ingres of Ossian Songs for example. So touching you send it directly to yourself, then to every- one in the free world     [tab10]To dream of lozenges[/tab10] [tab10]foretells success in small[/tab10] [tab10]matters. Meanwhile, our[/tab10] [tab10]embryology is full[/tab10] [tab10]of gradients. Every afternoon, endure[/tab10] [tab10]all weathers beside[/tab10] [tab50]a red mailbox[/tab50] Every evening heed a recommended dosage of harmonic shifts and key expansions. Every yesterday, observe the grail cup full of concave depth just to spite these flat contrivances. Typical tableaux, in which every line is suspect, although constant talk about the diptych of decent size upon the banker's cabinets expresses promiscuity between seeing and the seen. Aiming to appear angelic with poorly drawn digits, aching for fake perspectival from anyone clocking drips and drabs of moisture over time. Still moment, positively teeming with nowness     Orphic tweaks and Osiric scraps. A puddle of a muddle out of which they flourish. Under the weather, haunted by scans of dehiscence, waiting for that colourful outburst of sporangium upon white dish rack. So often supine, dwelling over erotic fragments, curves of body and corners of flat. But animation of a body is not assemblage or juxtaposition of its parts, we keep insisting. Reaching inside for spiritual principle and tenderly lifting out offal The joke of those beastly guts only catches on when healing takes effect. Struck by scherzo in abrupt redux of minuet, still futzing around. Barely time to be stuck on you, to walk with carnal wobble, utterly befuddled by this repurpose of life     Languishing in mid-reach for Lydian mode, listening to hymnal suckered in the gut of chamber depth, transfixed by random pseudoreality of neck and shoulder in south- paws of collagist tossing together angular demoiselle in her salad days. To know, in the mouth of polymath, tied up with the concept of chewing over, of biting no less, bringing to mind the rumination of reseda and what it brashly intimates. Then penultimate part—instrumental recitative—affectation that springboards into stirring aria More traces and undeniable evidence of affection, pant leg yellowed with dandelion and bread greened with lettuce. To know, glossing everything it could and would entail, [tab15]since the ruination of that preternatural place[/tab15]