Vol 1 No 2 2007

my last modernist poem, #3
(or, how enlightenment looks at night)

            the moon shows nearly thirty faces, time
and again, and time and again i swoon
            away from surely. knowing profiles teem
in barren skies, maybe answers lie strewn

            around, meiotically more and less,
yours for the taking. yours at the low, low
            price. lines wax into stanzas. don’t confess
you guess or press faint yeses into no.

            i concentrate on craters, evidence
of the sun, shifting shoreline, the fat track
            diana makes some nights, irreverence
patterned upon dance—let it all attack

            my senses. i succumb, fight back. i grow
weary, filling out forms in afterglow.

Mount Rainier

my last modernist poem, #3
(or, how enlightenment looks at night)

from 31 words * prose poems

Evie Shockley