Contributed By: John McKernan
How quick you are Little wheel
To appear on the page
As if
You were
Going somewhere
To me
You are still
That gasp of horror
O or OH
You think
You created a clever disguise
Loitering next to the number NO
But I know a real alias when I see one
Noose Noose Noose
Return to table of contents for Issue 6 Fall 2012
It is a strange house. Look: the hand suddenly opens sleeping doors. There are fine staircases and high windows. The windows are open and voices can be heard singing. Singing with the voice of the earth and the air of the sky. Slow voices descend black stairs. White voices descend trembling lofty columns. They sing […]
I heard my hands were yellow, and in the lines I could feel deeper, like tea I never knew what any of that means if colors have smells then yellow lingered in front of my face when I held up my sweet tobacco-scented hands against the heat —a waste, I burned anyway I was already […]
1 The ball fields under the old bridge are lit, the fences are short, and the river stinks some nights like dead fish and men sweating after work and cigarettes, beer and piss. Here the catcher squats, toad in a jersey. I’m on deck and there’s this married woman. I’m counting the syllables of a […]
