rob mclennan
thirteen ways of describing anything has become the archetype
for the worst kind of poem

the airplane flies east & pulls just at the hook between
my third and fourth ventricle

all carved up with rust

I have been without you so long I can no longer distinguish
the colours red, blue

would rather be happy than right

you talked of this once, when the lights went quick down
& you asked if I noticed

in my dream, the streets fill with little epiphanies, and pockets
are already full

three men in the same suit
checkmark boxes on bright yellow foolscap

an advertisement for car audio
obscures a young girl reading scripture

I know this is more than a series
of mere moments

are you receiving me?
2 Responses
  1. kerry Says:

    Can't say I have a handle on everything happening here (the title, for example), but there are some wonderful images. I like the "third and fourth ventricle//all carved up with rust" and "three men in the same suit".


  2. i Am receiving you/r words with much appreciation, and a complex gut-like ease.