Home
About
Our Story
Masthead
Submit
Submission Guidelines
Submit Here
Book Review Submissions
Features
Interviews
Book Reviews
Previous Issues
Blog
Contact
Dane Hamann
From Issue 4
Moonlight by Edvard Munch
Thee outbursts of your mind are
considered automatic & stylized
open spaces. Your hand just glides,
seeing the way night takes a lungful.
Consider this sky & shoreline,
a thin white channel of bone
dripping like wax. A cloistered
midsummer awash in a cold palette.
Maybe it’s all cloud to you, or sunset
triggered by a pushbutton moon.
It’s form unanchored. A confrontation
coming into view from the forest’s edge.
You try to plump up the scene. Boughs,
impossibly swollen, starving toothpick trees.
Your best choice was an island. A shadow
of bedrock brushed with weightless gray.
You find the fullness of such a night
too easy, so you daub it out of habit
while I choke on the heat of pre-dinner
drinks, my heart caroming inside
a perfectly sized shot glass. Pour me one
more, painter, anchor me to this shore.
Home
About
Our Story
Masthead
Submit
Submission Guidelines
Submit Here
Book Review Submissions
Features
Interviews
Book Reviews
Previous Issues
Blog
Contact