***
Deras deklaration lyder:
"Cirque Journal was founded in 2009 by Anchorage poet Mike Burwell. Cirque, published in Anchorage, Alaska, is a regional journal created to share the best writing in the region with the rest of the world. This regional literary journal invites emerging and established writers living in the North Pacific Rim—Alaska, Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Montana, Hawaii, Yukon Territory, Alberta, British Columbia, and Chukotka."
*
Dusk, by Mercedes Lawry
(Published in Cirque Journal, Issue 7:2, 2016.)
Crows cross
the linen of evenings folds,
bruising the air
with bossy squawks.
Pink threads
the blotted clouds.
The day's fretting
begins to blur.
Soon sleep will dull
the barbs
as the moon glints
like a pearly bone.
***
Don't ever fall in love with a poet, by Elizabeth L Thompson
(Published in Cirque Journal, Issue 7:2, 2016.)
She'll tack your eyelids to stars,
Then tease you with slumber...
She'll exorcize blackness from midnight
And expect forgiveness...
She'll claim stability, as she
sells fiery conscience to Lucifer...
She'll fancy whoredom,
Then allege nunnery...
She'll pin your heartstrings to a chord chart,
And lead you to a feast of fantasy,
Promising role-play, roast and rum,
Then fall with rhythmic ecstasy
Into a bed of pillow-top, pillow-talk prosody.
Prepositions and pentameter,
Contriving a punctuated word blizzard
amidst a sultry reckoning...
Don't ever fall in love with a poet!
***
Labour day, South Cascades / Pepper Trail
(Published in Cirque Journal, Issue 7:2, 2016.)
The forest and I, never more idle than today
Not yet winter's sleep, but beginning of the fall
The fruitless conifers undisturbed by birds
The meadow now a dried arrangement
The bees gone together with the flowers
The time of striving is done, the young
Dispersed, busy elsewhere in the world
Work become their own secret to keep
Starting on a road to an unseen place
Barely visible, far below this hazy peak
 |
| Thornton Lakes, Washington State |
Around the rock, my seat, gather metaphors
Dull grasshoppers, lizards, and flies
Bewildered by the chill, the lessened light
While high above, the vultures leave for California
Hoping always for a better choice of dead
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