STEVE SNEYD

Deserving of a Coat of Looking At

  season of, over

            squnched safeglow-dumped-workcoat daff

heads, glass-scratching bird

calls; downslope white cherry bloss

& n hills off heat hide scars

New Heorot Honours Its Unexpected Guest

gene-modded to eat light

brings to head of feast-board

presence of absence to our sight:

dark as the darks of darkness

silence roared how futures do

* * *

GRZEGORZ WRÓBLEWSKI

Cascades

Translated from the Polish by Adam Zdrodowski

Waterfalls hidden somewhere around – you’re feverish

and I open the windows wide each night

believing

that we’ll finally hear the roar of streams splashing over the stones.

Meanwhile

insomnia and the silence of rocky hills. (Our tame lizards

dangerously gain weight...)

We slowly take root in the sands.

A Sunny Picture

Translated from the Polish by Adam Zdrodowski

Wouldn’t you like to be again a little boy sending paper shuttles in the direction of

the sun,

pretending he can’t remember where he came from and who left him alone among the sleepy old men

who are painting the pictures

of their dead women on the hot sand?

* * *

DYLAN HARRIS

Final TV Big

audience sea roll pebble shore breathe

cup archaic boredom occupier

moron matter computer

blank unturned ocean pretend tileset

concentration frown where

ah yes top right near

three unlucky

base left near

void reload

top right one bon

blank blank game on

next damn hope sour

risk random

base left near luck

sweep release luck such luck

fourteen blank

rote turn mark

rote turn mark

rote turn mark

rote turn mark

eight mark hope end

line edge one turn four

three mark

chasm rare thirty blank

board centre empty vertical strategy poison

mine edge concentration bastard

turn mark rote

turn mark rote

turn mark rote

turn mark rote

* * *

ROB O'DRISCOLL

Illumination

            she is pale pale

                    flame

             ogod calling to my darkness

             eyes that know see

                    suggest

            peering into the  bolthole

               priesthole soul

                garbling guiltbox

             into my words

             all these empty

                    places

              i do not want her light

                     salvation

                let me be

            sand & hosanna

                        in my mouth

           deaths  balm and a

               rosaryprayer

             not the flesh and fluid

             of her particular curves

             her red lips

                     are moving

                       against that candleskin

            she will not still

                 or silence

              hope and other sins

                       all-my-black

            consumed sacrificed

             the waferthin

               innocent taste

                bleeding before

              the knowledge

            and the light pours

             through these slats

             casting out shadows

               hear my confession

                 now

             into your strangeblue eyes

             i have lived

             like this forever

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