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SurVision Magazine

An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.

Issue Nine



how life gets its start

insects against glass, slow
heat of midnight under netting
living here is living under the sea's
uterine alembic, water glides lightning
kites, clouds are blue at night, wet
sheets, fierce flush of sleepers' heat
the way tin roofs sing water's
pounding, ground a skin taught, drops
arrow back toward the messengers
from where they came, and then fall, small
craters along the dirt road, run to muck
then as if it cannot decide to be
this way or that

above the grave of its individuality, coastal
waters pummelled by rain, water sluicing
from the land, billows carrying insects, leaves
recent corpses, falling, off the edge
that liquid piano fast like arroyos
flushed with maddened rocks, old tree
branches leaving home for a new life
disbursed matter feeding the chemical sea
reseeding that which would come to be me

when histories take the shape of pillows

like now on the bed lying in this
June night with the crows abed
and the skunks roaming
here I am rooting
under the warmth left by aging blankets
each pulled thread singing in sheep-shaped voices
the blanket's warped hands unfolding

and the feathers!
all the eider tales flapping
through blue ticking
a quill to the soft pouch beside the eye

such material histories, night's roil
undoing each small slip toward self's dissolution

it's hard to tumble into sleep
those oceanic miles
burnt smell of water
when night squanders the dark's shy might

weeding instead

morning glories abandoned
in the blackberries
horned orchestras to acapella
with their torn roots heaped
upon carrot and potato peelings

how hurt I feel, the fragmented
air of a dead squirrel's tired passing
the remaining of the pair, the white
blossom eaten two days later
amidst the hardening thorns, and the crow,
its moored feathers still lay
winded by the flying cars

if I could listen to the clamouring
blades, would I let go the grass verge,
spit ink to blot the street, death's
complexity plowed into white space
and even margins

Pearl Button lives in East Vancouver, Canada. Her poetic works, including visual poetry, appear in Otoliths, Peculiar Mormyrid, Skink Beat Review, Surrey Muse, and Caliban Online.

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