UnChristened.
ι
Aug 26, 2017 · 2 min read

What is the name of the pet gazelle
that leaps into Jew green
and vanishes into the fog of dry ice.
What is the magnet on the fridge
that sticks to human memories.
What’s the spell to induce dreams
in demented insomniacs of the cracked streets.
ㅤ ㅤ .1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink.
Who is that behind you, always?
The shadow? But
it doesn’t walk straight!
ㅤ ㅤ .1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink.
What remembering the siege of Berlin,
diese Preußen! my father on his death bed. Daudet’s dog.
What noise? A call of a bird perhaps?
Twit! Twit!
Jug? Jug? Jug?
Sweeney among the cuckoos. Thugs?
What is that syrup over the pale dead.
Not ductile pancakes of my brazen eyes.
Eyes? Eyes?
Gazelle’s. Delicate wanderer.
Drinker of horizon’s fluid line.

- After Mai Der Vang’s poem, Monument, published in POETRY magazine’s July/August edition this year. And after lots and lots of varied allusions, and Mike’s belief and statement in the very first poem, Surréalisme, of his book ‘The Biology of Strangeness’ — “meaning only concerns the readers”.

