Poetry / June 2017 (Issue 36: Writing Japan)


Two Poems

by Trane DeVore

No. 21

she steps from behind the counter,
her body covered in moss

we throw ladles of water over her
to secure our wishes
and she breaks out in a hysterical laughter

and then, moving more slowly
          than the sloth itself (an animal that itself
grows moss in its hair from the rich
          soil of its molasses sluggishness)

a series of boats emerges from her mouth
loaded with a treasure of magical seeds,
the eggs of plants that have as yet
never once been seen


No. 58


gold flakes
           on a soft serve cone
  a brilliant
                         glitter
  of precious


dandruff

across the vanilla landscape



gold is the dandruff of the stars,     our
                                   skin flakes off
raining down
             on the blank page

the gold rains down
                      from the mountains
         in Kanazawa, is beaten
                    as thin as discarded snake skin

(delicate enough to illuminate a manuscript)


— a galaxy of representational alchemy —


the gold flakes on the cold cone
               snake their way through
    the body, pure and untouched,

make their way out to the ocean,
            drift like jellyfish
    and settle
             in new constellations
making up
           the secret language
                            of bathymetry
 
 
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