An international online magazine
that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.
Issue Eleven
MARC VINCENZ
On
a Scale of One to Fish
O to be desired, and to be desired back so easily.
Yes, I know the timpani rolls.
The crashing cymbals of reality.
We were jaded in the scale, just above where the
fleshy part dwells, or perhaps, on another scale, we
had found the best flesh.
A sunrise always helps.
Riptide
Squared away.
Floored in wooden clogs.
What nibbles?
See that signpost over there?
That's all he can do.
He sits on the ice perched over his small fish.
He knows who's biting
And waits alone.
Copious
Knowledge
The art of dance beats in the wrist, so much so, I
forgot about going home to the tree of knowledge to
coo amongst the doves of Windermere; yet, in plain
sight, at every moment, gregarious eyes. That
expansion into black as white or white as black, or, as
has been intimated in the literature of the old gods:
"Drop thy leaning glance upon me. To sire, means I
would sire you, and that, in plain sight of every
moment."
Marc Vincenz lives on a farm in Western Massachusetts. A poet, fiction writer, translator, editor, musician and artist, he has published over 30 books of poetry,
fiction and translation. His work appears in
The Nation, Ploughshares, Raritan, World Literature Today, and The Los Angeles Review of Books.
He is editor and publisher
of MadHat Press, and publisher of New American Writing. His latest books are There Might Be a Moon or a Dog (Gazebo Books, Australia, 2022) and The Pearl Diver of Irunmani (White Pine Press, forthcoming 2023).
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