ISSUE  1   2   3  

4 

 5     SUBMIT

Two Poems


Ray Succre

Tying the Shoe

When she fidgeted laces their loops and wide,
then tied in the rabitty ears, poured tight, she locked
that foot a plasticized peradvantage, innocent foot,
sweat clod, and after, she burned into her own
knotty form, a knobbed fret, babbled as by
tipped affection boiling: so cute standing,
staring below to the string-work,
the short-range confusion worn like a patch flag,
bird in a plane-wake,
boll-weevil crushed in an unknown snout—
little boys were the one branch she knew,
all of it, them, boys,
and from this smidgeon circus,
the last of four, her smallest muck of a man,
had just begun to work a shoelace.



Uncovering Harmless Fits a Little Everywhere

The heart is
the mind is
eating and
the age of
the hark
though havoc,
the taciturn
though arsonistic,
and her in
the slow forge,
and here in
rage tempting
the scorch,
the west,
the paradise
turning,
the heart is
the mind is
eating and
the age.