Fathom 1995



Inside Cover



Graham Touchie (4)
Jay White
Jacob Towers
Peggy Apostolides
Erica Spenser
Kathy Mac (4)
T. Gaoh
Rob Hutten
Guillaume van Moorsel


Karen Smith
C.A. Garbutt
Urs Frei


T. Gaoh




Sometimes, standing slack at the window, I can feel
a glass of possible slip from my hand. I don’t
look down, cannot remember letting go.
But the aura of a lifetime of glasses lingers. Whole moist
days of reaching and filling; saucers
of night balanced on cups of stars.
Could the synapse of realization and circumstance be thin
as a page? The accident of being
would seem this way – this perceived
depth, these postmarked wings. A body could fold years
and not get any wider, could go on
dropping entire galaxies of glasses yet recalling
every kiss until the cool thought f a sip becomes a hand
recently emptied of touch. Each day,
a breath sets out across the water. The luminous
hands of the wind. They are building on the other side,
this faithless multitude, these
refugees of my forgetting. I know you smuggle them back,
have been feeding them eyelashes. Sunlight shatters
in the sink while we sleep. Wrapped in the
promise of your pulse, I am caught in love’s vertigo, can
recall the letting go.


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