Connor Stratman--Son of Creeley in the Meta-Desert

Alack,

you stand for No thing

           Not even a sculpted mask:

           Lover. Marketer. Fiend.

I’ve found something I should tell you about.

Let the voice rehearse:

If a kingfisher dives and restrains, all at once,

can dark swoops grip time? Just now,

a drop of snow in a bled desert, on his way

to springing a dove:

then the blood sun’s a threat.

Escalante

The only place

of “no permission.” In the deep

of the canyon, I could

smell a death through a passage.

A wing-torn crow lay

watching the shadows

bounce off the wall. The Guide

drizzled water

near his feet.

“The wolves would have him,

Sooner or Later.”

For Robert Creeley

a bell

or like a bell

some ring

far away

and it could

have been

just about

any thing

Connor Stratman lives in Dallas, Texas. His books and chapbooks include VOLCANO (Writing Knights Press, 2011), SOME WERE AWAKE (plumberries press, 2011), and SOME WERE AWAKE (Erbacce Press, 2010). His work has appeared in such journals as Moria, Counterexample Poetics, Ditch, Otoliths, Dead Snakes, Etcetera, and many others. He is currently pursuing a PhD in English Literature at the University of Texas at Arlington.