SurVision Magazine
An international online magazine
that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.
Issue Eleven
MICHAEL RUBY
Three Poems from "Visions"
The small hole at the end
of the dark tunnel
recedes in the distance
What will we call it?
A glowing cash register
People in the aisles
of a bright store
What are we going to find
in this dim light
where nothing is recognizable
and I mean nothing?
It would be better
to be in darkness
pitch darkness
Trees are reflected
in a pool of water
at dusk
wavering
Once again this dimness
a blue dimness
in which nothing is recognizable
Everything is very brown
like a Brownie's uniform
Hands reach into the mouth
of a giant stone lion
The air turns to fire
The room
was painted by Vuillard
if anyone
She shakes her head slowly
a psychologist
very reasonable
On an urban movie set at night
in the 1930s or 40s
Who am I looking at?
I'm not sure
Greer Garson?
The blonde with bright lipstick
is almost laughing
Her décolleté
right above us on the stage
* * *
A spider
in its web
trembles in the wind
We followed the car
through the desert
at night
to a great bonfire
A set of false teeth
sat on the card table
glowing
as if it had a light inside
A stuffed fish
mounted
on a
square piece of wood
glows
A man
with a concerned look on his face
looks for something
on the side of the highway
hot clouds
behind him
What could he be looking for
in the chicory
and queen anne's lace
and poison ivy?
Perhaps a cellphone
Goalposts
glow in the night
goalposts within goalposts
receding
They gave you no example of this route or that
(An inner voice speaking)
The snowman
is now
as tall as the house
It happened accidentally
Why do you think it would be nice to restaurant workers at least once?
Why do you think it would be kosher?
The flame
is only
at the tip of the torch
on top of the trophy
* * *
It's black out
with a mist of powdered stars
Through the car windshield
a reddish black sky
the end of I don't know what kind of sunset
in I don't know what kind of place
A dim corridor
goes down
and then curves
to the right
A ghostly white canoe
with wheels
glows
in the night
What do we see
when we look
high above us
in a corner
of the throne room?
What did they show us?
It makes you think
they've sold
most of what they have
A gray face
almost emerges
from the center of the black
She is wearing a striking scarf
around her neck
Wouldn't it be great if she were here?
She hates it there
Michael Ruby is from New York. He
works as an editor of U.S. news and political articles at The Wall
Street Journal. He is the author of seven poetry books, most recently Compulsive Words (BlazeVOX, 2010), American Songbook (Ugly Duckling,
2013), The Mouth of the Bay
(BlazeVOX, 2019), and The
Star-Spangled Banner (Station Hill, 2020). His trilogy in prose
and poetry, Memories, Dreams and
Inner Voices (Station Hill, 2012), includes ebooks Fleeting Memories (Ugly Duckling,
2008) and Inner Voices Heard Before
Sleep (Argotist Online, 2011). His other ebooks are Close Your Eyes (Argotist, 2018)
and Titles & First Lines (Mudlark,
2018). He is co-curator of the Station Hill Intermedia Lab.
