Three Poems
Ryan Clinesmith Deconstructing Mirrors Bugs drop from the gowns of pine trees, fire crackles the music of our dancing shadows, spirits flow, chatter, familial exchange is posted; “This must be heaven!” Shrouding the cascade of a moth’s spiral, soft pops, cedar bangs, glacial blue around our eyes, the fractured memory of this heaven under a spotted blanket of darkness. Folgers Classic Recipe Sits on the bottom shelf In the bathroom, A deluxe size container Filled with everything But coffee; Rocks, tampons, a hairbrush, Rubber bands once shot at Danny In the kitchen, a ball of clay-- A failed miniature wolf From pottery class, Scissors, old things Long ago duplicated Like the house Around the Folgers container, A wooden memory Of forgotten pasts. Izzy In dark spaces there is magic. Cats know nothing of objects Except for the jealousy Toward the objects a hand might touch. And anything can be imagined In the depths that have no light, As the cat creates identity In things that have no life. Together we speak of meaninglessness, Purr and whispered verse. The spell within the dark, The sound of a meow In the absence of applause. |
|

About the Author: Ryan Clinesmith is a recent graduate from Emerson College. He was born and raised in New York and is inspired by poets like, Billy Collins, Charles Simic, and Dean Young.