An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.
Spring body freefall dance, an elevator mosaic
In Naples, somewhere near the train station;
It is August, the day of another circus parade,
No parties, no prayers, only needles in the sun;
No words of hope or love, only boundaries
Bumping into each other, lines of control moving
Around corners of the earth, sleeping animals
Looking for any kind of comfort they can find –
The mind moves forward, it builds new mountains,
But like everything under the sun, it is divided;
Let it slip inside shadows, inside renovations,
Take the speedway and press fast-forward:
Search the stone, search the linen canvas,
Find the spring body freefall dance.
The Red Poppies Run to Us
By sunflowers near the periphery
Dead prophets gather
To hear an older order speak,
They see the past darken
Under a thousand-yard stare.
Near the hub there are trees
Dancing on castle walls
And during holiday weekends
There are blood spots on the grass,
Lifebuoys on the green sea.
Slowly life is mistaken
For a tangent flown away,
The red poppies run to us,
But then a kiss is heard
And avenues thud into being.
The fountains spread their wings
As a stopped clock strikes the hour,
Under a gateway flashes the moat
While old city anchors raise bridges
Like eyeglasses to the moon;
In deeply heated muscles lie kernels of truth,
Abstractions of reality that merge with space
And in time will live forever –
The fountain spray forms itself
Into something modern; it sails
Past the ancient walls, surfing waves
Through the weirs of tomorrow's pain:
It will win this battle and this war,
Nothing stale will be refreshed again.
Tim Murphy is originally from Cork in Ireland, and now lives in Madrid. He is the author of two poetry chapbooks: Art Is the Answer (Yavanika Press, 2019) and The Cacti Do Not Move (SurVision Books, 2019).