Monday, September 26, 2011


Black and ragged clouds
try to pull from the struggling feet
of black doug firs, black socks;

an invisible ball bearing
in a plastic maze -- the first blue light --
circles the rim of heaven.

An unexpected whip of rain
cuts the bridge of my nose:
we die in glory if we die today.


Zhoen said...

We strip our arm and show the scars.

marly youmans said...

The ball bearing in the maze--interesting way to get at that effect.

Could this one go in the apocalypse issue at The Shit Creek Review? Not sure--but it has that excess and strangeness, dark and light together, and the whip mixed with glory...

I'm not very industrious about sending out, but I'm fond of those Paul Stevens 'zines, although I didn't realize until recently that he had more than "The Flea."