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Shipyard
(after Richard Serra)
Memory, a hollow hull
serpentine
secrets laid bare to
weather, ways
through a metal maze
exposed
no scratched into
rust the rain refreshes
patter, pater, pattern
curve of sky and
a far-off hammer
sparrowsong amplified
heat rising
one limp condom
cocoon
in the gap of a steel seam
Supermassive
For the first time, we saw
--through the telescope’s eye
mirror to mirror, cone
to cone, the focal plane--
something leave a black hole,
flare-born
a bright corona fallen
unto that placeless place
gathered inward, and then
launched upward, like a jet
whatever it was, unseeable
source of light
might have been a memory
traveling backward
Recollection
In the white gravel
yard of the funeral home
a century plant
and there, waiting for us – us
stopped short by the lobby glass
Mt St Victoire
(after Cézanne)
A blue line, broken
where the ridge was
isn’t, errant edge
against the sky
no victory
but in wind and rain
to know – feel –
ourselves fugitive
the mountain holds
Mark Harris lives in Princeton, NJ. The poems presented here are part of a book-length manuscript in progress. Related work has appeared in NOON: journal of the short poem, ONandOnScreen and Shearsman. He is proprietor of Ornithopter Press, a small publisher of chapbooks by contemporary poets.
This originally appeared on June 18, 2017