Menu

 
   
..:: CONTENTS ::..
   Volume X, Issue II

..:: POETRY ::..


..:: PROSE ::..
..:: OTHER ::..

..:: ETC ::..
   Contributor's Notes

..:: ARCHIVES ::..
   Volume I, Issue I
   Volume I, Issue II
   Volume II, Issue I
   Volume II, Issue II
   Volume III, Issue I
   Volume III, Issue II
   Volume IV, Issue I
   Volume IV, Issue II
   Volume V, Issue I
   Volume V, Issue II
   Volume VI, Issue I
   Volume VI, Issue II
   Volume VII, Issue I
   Volume VII, Issue II
   Volume VIII, Issue I
   Volume VIII, Issue II
   Volume IX, Issue I
   Volume IX, Issue II
   Volume X, Issue I

 
Poetry


Mystical
         After Rimbaud
David McAleavey

 

The place they hand out brilliant ideas is pretty well hidden, and the people who work there know many disguises.

          It's hot and bright the way a foundry's lit. Nothing but headlines behind the building, headlines that have been read to tatters, though a deep understanding remains elusive. A flock of unusual birds sloops by and vanishes, maybe parakeets.

          The precision of tent pegs entering a grassy ledge near a mountain stream full of rainbow trout offers unexpected reassurance,

          The way astonishment sparks out from a mother's fur coat to the child being left behind, who another day seeks the closet to touch the coat again, as if against a future loss, a more terrible one.

 

 

//   Advance   //