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‘Summer’s Surface’ and two more poems.

By MARC VINCENZ.

Summer’s Surface

Crackling in
its gnarled edges
and warmed kinks,

we slip through
the noose of home
and prance out

into the white sails
of the big outdoors
where insects

are performing
in their whole-

some blue.

To Exist as Mirage in the Vapor of Her Dream

The fluttering of wings
in this part of the forest

where there’s no turning
around—or on the beach,

in that crowd
of the unremembered,

an old freighter,
once a healthy giant,

now rocks forgotten
by all but these ravens.

A Greek Tragedy

Crows litter
The countryside
In their glossy feathers,

Bunches of dry stems
Emerge from the earth,
A few webs of plastic

Hold on—little flags
Pointing the way—
I cross the road,

My skin a bolt
Of bleached fabric;
The old features

Replaced by heavier,
Hardened ones—
Impressive as cast iron,

But walking in the dark
Like a memory.


MARC VINCENZ is a poet, fiction writer, translator, editor, musician and artist. He has published over 30 books of poetry, fiction and translation. His more recent poetry collections include A Brief Conversation with Consciousness, The Little Book of Earthly Delights, There Might Be a Moon or a Dog, 39 Wonders and Other Management Issues, and The Pearl Diver of Irunmani. His work has been published in The Nation, Ploughshares, Raritan, Colorado Review, Evergreen Review, Washington Square Review, Fourteen Hills, Plume, Willow Springs, Solstice, World Literature Today, The Golden Handcuffs Review, The Los Angeles Review of Books and many other journals. He is publisher and editor of MadHat Press and publisher of the journal New American Writing, and lives on a farm in Western Massachusetts where there are more spiny-nosed voles, tufted grey-buckle hares and amoeba scintilla than humans.

One Comment

  1. wrote:

    very cool poems, short and sweet! and precise. Ping

    Tuesday, 11 April 2023 at 21:31 | Permalink

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