SurVision Magazine / Connor Fisher

A Diagram Sketched on Onionskin

Silent machines careen through ditches like
black boats. Every marsh rabbit
is a ghoul. Staunch the bleeding from my throat.
Don't staunch the bleeding from my throat. I
remember God. He makes power in a laboratory.
He makes each white tooth its own capital. A cow
is blank paper. You put your cube inside me. Today
I am already someone else. I put my cube
inside you. Today I am a museum; I keep travelers in
my belly. There's an empty ocean of space. How
is it possible to sleep? I am a shepherd without
my meadow. I am a shepherd who has never seen
an airplane. I made you twitch and tied you
up. My little brother is a rooster. He lives
in a tent; he zips it up. He zips the infinite tent
of heaven. How is it enough to lift you up
onto the surface of the final orange tree? I
will never lay on the knife blade. How is it possible to
wash every hidden inch of your body? You are an emperor
adrift over seamless acres of silk.

Connor Fisher is the author of the chapbooks The Hinge (Epigraph Magazine, 2018) and Speculative Geography (Greying Ghost Press, forthcoming 2020). His poetry and reviews have appeared or are forthcoming in Typo, The Colorado Review, Tammy, Posit, Cloud Rodeo, and
The Denver Quarterly.

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An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English. Issue Eight CONNOR FISHER A Diagram Sketched on Onionskin Silent machines careen through ditches like black boats. Every marsh rabbit is a ghoul. Staunch the bleeding from my throat. Don't staunch the bleeding from my throat. I remember God. He makes power in a laboratory. He makes each white tooth its own capital. A cow is blank paper. You put your cube inside me. Today I am already someone else. I put my cube inside you. Today I am a museum; I keep travelers in my belly. There's an empty ocean of space. How is it possible to sleep? I am a shepherd without my meadow. I am a shepherd who has never seen an airplane. I made you twitch and tied you up. My little brother is a rooster. He lives in a tent; he zips it up. He zips the infinite tent of heaven. How is it enough to lift you up onto the surface of the final orange tree? I will never lay on the knife blade. How is it possible to wash every hidden inch of your body? You are an emperor adrift over seamless acres of silk. Connor Fisher is the author of the chapbooks The Hinge (Epigraph Magazine, 2018) and Speculative Geography (Greying Ghost Press, forthcoming 2020). His poetry and reviews have appeared or are forthcoming in Typo, The Colorado Review, Tammy, Posit, Cloud Rodeo, and The Denver Quarterly.
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