9 Poems by Steven Manuel
Steven Manuel: Born 7 / Jan. ’86, Salisbury, NC; moved around (textiles textiles — father) same state several times, now in Asheville—greek & latin, college. . . . . . . . . . Your face, nailed to the page, brings dreams: I wake, wild, clock shake sound as eyes & drive you out-- grace-eyed, the eyes of witch-- to eat nine planets 'til the next night, sleep's stones which give time, harrow, long missile; skiff is this that shimmers-- that shakes. . . . . . . . . . I'll move up high pick flowers & know about mtns., leaves, the grass that strains pitiful fingers to sky & hollow moon eat dirt . . . . . . . . . early grain I can hear the air . . . . . . . . . bird sings in the space of stars . . . . . . . . . CLOUD/out of Mahler's SYMPHONY No.2,I: Allegro Maestoso music box phlox air gem sphex fossil zotheca . . . . . . . . . Beauty, hard servant, they say, I once popped you open by a trash can on sleeping pills. . . . . . . . . . Flower Lady A woman working with flowers I thought she was a flower working with the stems clippers hanging off hand maroon gloves and yellow flowers She was wearing yellow She turned out not to be a flower . . . . . . . . . SEA, NOT LAKE an an- chor that sings in the water . . . . . . . . . rinsed feet almost shiny on the bed dampening the covers in lamp's out night


