FathomOnline

 

 Fathom 1994

Cover

 

Inside Cover

 

Poetry

Graham Touchie (3)
Derrick Higginbotham
Tara J. Hoag (3)
Jason Holt (3)
Nadine Herman

Prose

Otto Lambert
Michael Kohn
Peter J. Taylor
Andrew Mitchell
Andrew MacLeod
Kenneth Gordon
Urs Frei

[PDF]

Graham Touchie

 

 

above the island

the door rode hard, to
Hell high up
on stone hinges.

and Hell’s stone
lady switching
hues so slowly;
troubled face,
lonely work;
she
the only soul
who waits for grace.
she
sees sleep
where it cries out
softly in a passageway,
bowed in a passageway
to a broken hole
rounded all
by broken ground,
and the sad
hopeful sky
squatted down,
making its own middle,
never-moving,
hope-deadened eyes
the eyes of the sky.

 

camped

this gets spooled around
the spooked mood above
the child’s head; in dark, a dark in

this surgery, sugary
pleasure as the crunch
of unpacketed white sugar
poured between teeth
then worked with eyes closed
by tongue, into a smile like a ghost’s.

along then seems the eternal:
a dark wanting to smile and slap or shove
the stubborn, idiot absence of light,
stubborn too in day, the half-brother
absence of additionals,
or of the crowning review
of what gets felt, dealt, shown the boy.

he is shown instead
to the feel of his sleeping bag
making the center of the room
a corner now, and softness:
you draw it tight
when fear is gone
you feel the dark the more.

 

south end

where my apartment is
I can sit southern
and think of the north.
quiet place to put an afternoon,
whoever thought of it.
I am blessed there also
with a radio and other small machines.
were I younger there would be nothing
to see or feel from the south;
I would see the southern fools the city sees.
as it is,
I just now noticed
the younger me up
freezing his north-fed Chivas fire
even less help to have around,
and eyes too shiny disks of pure north full.

 

last updated August 17, 2007 | © 2007 Fathom Publishing
poetry, prose, and artwork © individual authours | website created by Alana Paul