The Beat

The Beat

By Frankie Mace

 

 

I feel for you                      sideways

looking

out of a corner

ghost like a song like a song

twice

or more three times but

only that even

it doesn’t matter won’t forget

it’s a weakness of mine.

 

 

can it be

simply not possible

maybe fourth of all expanse of

there’s never being home

for dinner

never cold skipping out we’re

out till dawn

sweet as ever as anything but

worrying doesn’t get anyone anywhere

 

 

life is sideways though

the beat

of it swells in glorious circles

that I have memorised for you

looking directly

at a portrait in profile

like a song it comes around

but ends always

in the middle

 

 

 

*This poem was also published in the Stockholm Review of Literature*

Ode to a Water Canon.

By M.J. Cole

 

eye-hole

bored light forgetting the shade

inverted flames crashing into

the rip curl stuck under the street

on this shelf is the apocalypse

on this shelf is the point of no return

pick your smoking finitude and

let the sea sketch the architecture

of the corporeal undertow

sucking sewer footsteps

guiding the annals of overproduction

exploding through palisades

tube stars dancing to oblivion

signs running lost highways

to a shotgun acropolis

where drones don’t surrender

heads tinnitate leak neck to brick

and it collapses inward as ashes do

grey matter fine enough to snort

a last will and testament to air

 

 

Originally published in ‘words work vol. 1’ (2015)