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autumnal
:: choleric
astound me. seeding
1.
three damaged seasons, voicesa presence. in order to break, intercise each layer. fear counted like. cards fallen from hands this. the most careful story (yours)(mine): blown-flat. pile of moth wings & ash-- stay away. he said and it isn't even time. wait for autumn. brown-out eyes. amethyst. ripped fluttering and it isn't even night held. holding us at arms distance hollowed. where we crease against the image of goldenrod i apply my dereliction to you untying knots of fountainspray backward dunes unraveling after we read the gaping verb muscular node asterisk a planet if and this "if" of splendor sinks back into its vertebrae where we crimp burgeoning gardenias singular helix of whitewash and ice give me sacrificial arteries your eyelashes brimming with winter slender sores of the finite these were blood and bark slanting gouged labeled yellow bruise as "dying" peels climbing interruption the purest blank speck of tongue sparkling as consciously on my cheek in shame and what we do-- ever-filtered gallows you and i parabolic artificial mappings of copper-plated skies 2. I. face down blithely you thrust category: container blue lid to the serene sepulcher door threshold hearth twirled instant of two breaths not mingling but sideways shattering i cannot launder silence chapped gashed leaping cryptic flung at dusk fire in place of who leaves them for you as if perfect and kindled? glittering in nitrous looms every chair every table is not abutting clay-red burn here you are quartz and softer incinerated by some wall II. wound up, through opal hook of space fingers contort with traffic but to get there enzymes resound in light printing blandness streets leaking their pulses whir pathways puddles some outer beam resisting hovering as wave and particle what happens is not happening fourteen fathoms down say until concentric seams between these garbled currencies sew themselves reflexive ponds creek-worn against violet dangling in vermilion charred you hissing the not-blood of “I am” 3. Interludes
glances in
oxides windfall peripheral haze zenith swabbing you blind like living room crosstype
catacomb
feasts I am splintering you in tow paperveined in the most common shrug lead me wet- ways starting from
ash beige clover fingertips moving morningsilent lead to yours alternation a
scythe cowled by
knee and navel under coral carapace censuring your breath somehow we travel mirrors swim the horizon
brittle morpheme shift becomes euphoric taut something like a window accumulating you in breeze
but made of grass wisteria coarse seedlings commas give way letting emptiness this found light shutter close more funnel than eye all nouns of the world be sleeve trodden or ablutionary ocean underwhelming your ruin bland oats alive in your hair conifer & east orange mirage bring this vehicular moment caught in descent ascent calamity against white fin pick some electric entanglement to dwell on: hubcap unexpected shrub-wisp of flower name it for your speaking tongue but hiding calyx spaced & from your body because it already happened once ask yourself commensurately if the blacktop is how you remember it what's lacking pistil stigmata filament fireshadow without foreplay when you say hurry mojave curative venous & anthropic this firefly scrim stars all into you like a kickback and ride the ablated wreckage we share ash forehead open glowing burn athenic arrow skimming bent into curve of earlobe euthanizing soft woods puddles spoken planks residual trance carved coagulus yellow-white bride born guessing you & i meres of one another you and I aberrant bitter cactus tongues in garden in sounding siren |
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mackenzie
carignan is
a PhD student at University of Illinois at Chicago where she teaches
creative writing and literature classes. Her poetry has been
published in Hayden's Ferry Review, The Chaffin Journal, Liberty
Hill Poetry Review, Into the Teeth of the Wind, Bluesky Review, Sniper
Logic, Square One, and has upcoming publications in Alligator Juniper,
Another Chicago Magazine, and RIEN's Evening of Odds. She has
also been nominated for the Pushcart Prize in 2005 and lives two blocks
from Wrigley Field with her husband, Brian and son, Eliot.
scott glassman lives in Palmyra, NJ and works for a medical testing company. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Iowa Review, The Argotist, Unpleasant Event Schedule, Illuminations, Epicenter, Cranky, Sentence, South Carolina Review, 42Opus, The Cortland Review, and others. |
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