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a journal of literature & art

The Literary Review

Issue 10                    Page 43

selfsame

No longer knows. Foreigners are more apt to tell of the intricacies of being in a familiar land,

                                                                                                            now strange, abroad.

Habits grow on the old like warts, soon to bloom fine stems of hair. In lives, we change into

                                                                                                            different people.

bearings, gained

Over some kind of threshold we appoint to clocks, our lies become truth. Dreams, pursued, lived, dreamt

                                                                                                                        re-lived, told, and

given. Sometimes nutshells don’t open. What do cats return for? On the plains between the hills and

                                                                                                            the sea, poppies bloom

for nothing else better to do. Every door slam contains some anger. A ship of fools contains much food,

                                                                                                            water, no sexton.

The sea as if it were more than a bubble. In photos of ghosts, the spirit lies in what can be seen:

                                                                                                                        wooden stairway

of the old church, or mansion, the something only half there reveals what’s not intended to be.

                                                                                                            Seedlings in the breeze,

useless toy of a sleeping cat in the gutter, flowers glowing towards their end at the base of a tomb.

                                                                                                                        Voyage without

return is the small print never read at the footer of the itinerary. Left with boxes locked with

                                                                                                            shadows, meals are made

of shade.

iodine-esque

Ingredients. Jet streams. The wherewithal. Ineptitudes of a sudden nature. Shades of shade. Not

                                                                                                            to be. Perpetual

eclipses. Pink angora hat. Verbiage left on the scrabble board. A wound opened, bled,

                                                                                                            wiped with vinegar.

Chrysanthemums of the sea. The shock of after. In the magpie’s nest, cigar bands. And the moss,

                                                                                                            resisting; red.

trespassing

At the gate, bottles with cut lips. Crypts of grass cuttings. Moth wings. Stationary

                                                                                                            weather front. Still

a front. At the gate, a trail worn thick. Strands of birch. Playing cards wet

                                                                                                            and mangled in

alleys, no jokers. At the gate, a gate. Handles, pulled. Insouciant. Towards

                                                                                                            a line of people bent

on waiting. At the gate, a passage to. Through the gate: a changeling of fences.

obscuriting

As of yet, untitled. The naming of the wind. One such none such. Orange and white

                                                                                                            compliment of a dreamsicle.

The parade: one after another sponge. What doesn’t fit into cardboard boxes we call

                                                                                                            furniture. Postage not

canceled. Windings of a clock. Garden fenced by tiny boulders, otherwise known as rocks.

                                                                                                            Burden of empty milk

bottles. Stasis of the guard. The worst of times, around when o’clock. Tree obscuring

                                                                                                            the light of clouds.

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