Untitled
Connor Drum
They as went the whole way there, and found the empty black,
Discovered that the hole was large, and chose not to come backñ
They stared a while, the gormless eye that held their feet in place
Gazing blankly at their ragged forms, a pale and weary face
Up-turned from every fraying collar, staring into space
While they felt their chests expand, filled with the subtle hands of Graceñ
They as went the whole way there may feel themselves released
From the path that bound their feet to walk through strife, but end in peace
From trying to fall asleep at night, while jungles squirmed outside
With insects bent on flesh and clicking mouths on every sideñ
From lying freezing on the ground while dust dried out their tongues
Leaving hardened leather bits to bite, to drink the blood that runsñ
From waking in the morning just to sleep beneath the night
Let them turn, and feel the closeness of the black instead of fright
Let them know that now the monstrous deep that wide before them lies,
Is unanswerable, itís not their fault, just lean forward with a sighñ
They as went the whole way on, and found that they were lost,
That the only thing that held them was the morningís biting frost
After nights of stepping unknown through the streets that made their town
And refusing to look up at those who refused to look downñ
I turn my love to look at them, though only backs it sees,
And as I walk behind, I feel that gaze shift onto me.
Mantodea
by Amanda Taplin
How do we do this; do this, do this
and then silence
I fear I depend
On you
For no reason other than the general idea
Same notion slow motion
That makes frost on the windowpane
Misty heat under the sheets--
That reason, no other (the unconscious search)
Drawing the mantis to the other
In heat, in death
Binocular field of vision they see all
and do not see at all
Compound eyes of illusion and reality, elongated
transient.
Equilibrium-- cadence of harmonies
Echoing to the rhythm
Of life in solitude
Missing the unsung melody
Diversify, and die with the truth
which is the
Irrevocable tragedy of your lingering presence
Haunting my every slumber
For you are my phantasm
and I cannot sleep without you.
22
by John Duncan
arthur boyd:
she cried ‘transubstantiation’ -
why don’t you eat dirt and
feel closer to Earth !(?)
i slipped ,jointlessly, seemless
quicksilver ,going downdown
until I wrapped my serptentine form
around the core
, a cold static stone
(our thighs)
[II]
(gently)
/mornings are not sunrises,
and arenot accompanied by angels/donot
underestimate them they are violent
the darkform ,plunging
into his crucifixion
(before the mirror(trailing you
the fissured fortune which transcribes
the anatomy of a moment
;the lines on your face
[III]
trembling mirror ;her eyes
a thousand sunsets tumbling
merge into incandescence
her spine soft like wax
candle light passes through
,her fragile embryonic glow
trailing y(our) curves)
citysmogstars revert to
endless haste (but at least that’s bright &
the sunset has found her way ,demure
tucked into the ethereal longmists upon
floodplains
(the magistrate)
[IV]
(before the mirror ,defeated
society constructed only silent structures)
she mumbled ...
‘light decays into heat
;heat is the simplest form of energy
;cold is the absence of energy.’
The Cave
by Stuart Owen
Within us all is a long dark cave, hidden in a shadows mist, hidden plain and all betwixt
We long to keep it, the winding back, and fear that it grows to a mouthing light
Travelling at a stumble, like hands without light, like eyes without their precious sight
While the burrow crumbles dug with curling toes, clenching deep into the earth, and till tears water will not grow.
And in the dim above us all, at the tip of all our thought, there sleeps a light, a Sun adored.
Dripping all with radiance and imagination pure, one unseen conductor just a beat before the score
Some convinced of a harmony in chaos; some convinced of the clashing of tides,
Just a few have found their light, ones who looked themselves above, and carry pain to sigh a smile; to send the raven with the dove,
Some are more equipped than others to dispel the burden, eagre to be lifted from some blame
By placing the creation; A breathing new beat to an old fading name or a shiny new name to a gruesome old game.
Because we are so good at hiding, deep inside our caves, using all its dark around to hide us from some state
We forget that we are filled with light, we forget that by us we are saved, we forget that all that’s everywhere, is, was and will create,
So here we are, and where are we? And one, and all, the same.
Spilling light into your cave throws off the cold with a rising day, takes to the form and emerges from clay,
And promises to keep it captured, to keep it hearted in the way
So every time you might curl back, and every time you linger in, you take a lantern with you, and when your tunnel dampens, dim.
Remember the light at the entrance, and sing.
Look to the light in your hand.
30
by John Duncan
to the cries of loud fools
we dragged the magistrate
/that old shadow/
out. beneath the thunderladen antiphon ,the
disjointed songs
of high summer crackling
baking the bush.
Seductively, she read the red dotdotstop
the morsecode of sheoaks standing
memories deep in weary river banks
each footfall (he dragged behind ,rhythmically
;haul.armslength.halt.haul...)
met with soft cool hushes of dust on barefeet
(then),she languished upon the landscape like a Bloodlust Queen scalding
hill and plain in rosemadder swell. agonisinly stretching out contorted
paths of shade - finally, refuge, relief.
but the old dark man
the magistrate
the edge of shadows
melted with the day,
31
by John Duncan
remember that night
,a long january night,
they’re always shadowy reprieves
we ran along the road)
three drinks down,laughing
in the face of the viscous
newmoon darkness
we had nothing to prove)
its soft dust cooling
our bare legs,scratched
by newspaperagedsepia rye
and random tussock,
countless echoes & aromas,
contorted through the summer night
remember how we fell?
and tumbled
our cries the staccato
treble to the
nocturnal low
