Steve Mueske
Glitching Tomas
morning : the city is : lying prostrate
transparent : as a white hieroglyph that
remembers : the green sledge of
sea : the sun's painting : the sun has
eyes : in a playground : where gloves
black as tongues : lay : abandoned :
someone : is dreaming : someone
has fallen : into : the white blindness
of flickering faces : the quarantine
of icebound fields : somewhere
in the city : an unanswered telephone
rings and rings : like the plague
Steve Mueske is an electronic musician and the author of a chapbook and two books of poetry. His poems have appeared in The Iowa Review, The Massachusetts Review, Crazyhorse, Hotel Amerika, Third Coast, Water~Stone Review, Verse Daily, and elsewhere.
Return to March 2017 Edition
morning : the city is : lying prostrate
transparent : as a white hieroglyph that
remembers : the green sledge of
sea : the sun's painting : the sun has
eyes : in a playground : where gloves
black as tongues : lay : abandoned :
someone : is dreaming : someone
has fallen : into : the white blindness
of flickering faces : the quarantine
of icebound fields : somewhere
in the city : an unanswered telephone
rings and rings : like the plague
Steve Mueske is an electronic musician and the author of a chapbook and two books of poetry. His poems have appeared in The Iowa Review, The Massachusetts Review, Crazyhorse, Hotel Amerika, Third Coast, Water~Stone Review, Verse Daily, and elsewhere.
Return to March 2017 Edition
