Marsh Hawk Review is an online poetry journal sponsored by the Marsh Hawk Press collective. Marsh Hawk Review will appear twice a year, under the revolving editorship of collective members. Each issue will offer a selection of poems solicited by the editor, in addition to new work posted by poets in the collective.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010



in memory of Andrea Lewis, 1957-2009

With no away, you can’t get lost or drown.

You can’t just disappear; you’re trapped right here.

This sticky, spidery web still holds its own.

What does it mean when we think far or near?

What do we do when we throw stuff away?

What happens when we flush? What follows what?

The other ends of dreams unfold. You stay

in place, right where you are, yes, you stay put --

or so you think. Imagine how the sun

felt back in feudal days, when we assumed

our earth was flat. Imagine everyone

asleep in such belief. What insight bloomed,

what twilight rose to open people’s eyes?

“I’m up here moving, folks,” the sun might feel.

“How long before you Christians realize

there’s more than gold that shines? Light shines for real.”

And where does sunlight go? What does it do?

Light feeds each breath we take, light circulates

and in its round-and-round produces you

and me and everything that jumps or waits.

Away, away, away — what does it mean?

To fly away means sailing out of sight,

but who or what is racing from whose scene?

Perspective reigns. Day never knows it’s night.


Rhymes with phone or moan and

means: I’ve grown so dense and lazy

I can’t even be bothered to bomb you

personally, so I dispatch a robot to rob you,

relieve you of everything you thought

rightful or yours. Rhymes with snores.

No comments: