jack alun


winter bleak space
alzheimer snow
can't express

in a tundra
without alphabet

words below zero
sentences congealed
to signify

to connect
with disconnection
is real terror

or a tree
in present driftwood
might metaphor

was the past
shed the future
did more


(after Tzara)

{that end of the world
where we live
the crystal of clocks ignites
and smoke fumes filter the sun
where on screen has an eyelid flicker
and the man who sells us
on the one hand
with the other invites us to buy
and displayed in the magazines
and the internet
that knife-trace smile
vision like an alibi
continually to be sworn
as raw flesh a witness
and innocence accused
and sentenced in possession
of the scald in the blood}

[if snow fell upwards
or if the sun during the night
rose among us to warm us
or if buildings capsized
so that owls could perch
in the thicket of rooftops beside us
their placidity leaking
from the puddles of their eyes
into the blue sea lapping above -
but if/and if/or if all this
we might continue not to get it
or death would be the beautiful journey]

trial separation

where cast-off lie

back-beat of the heart

the common denunciator

marrow and maggot

of concupiscent ruin

of tunnelled envision

of memory's accumulation

a throb in the tear duct

and stench from the flotsam

of the diastole systole

of expended desire

doomed so to contemplate

decayed and the future

the dull periodicity

weighting the acridity of evidence

jackalun reviews regularly for Shearsman magazine (under the name John Couth), and for Jacket, and has conducted several interviews for Argotist online. His work has appeared widely in print magazines from Poetry Wales to Coffee House and ezines such as Eratio Postmodern and Words-myth. A new travel book is forthcoming and he is also compiling his first collection of poetry as well as his first novel. Currently, he lives in France where he works as a freelance travel writer and translator.
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