Ambit ions
Using a
locator
spell, I
track down
my absent
imagination
& find it is
currently
a charged
particle
of the queue
waiting to
audition
for Ameri-
can Idol.
—Mark Young
Keeping my hand in
Residual traces of the
lightning strikes
linger on the surface
of the optic nerves. Some
might see paintings
in them, or sculptures
carved from the Carrera marble
that Michelangelo loved
so much. Others
will attach visions, talk
of pathways to the world
beyond, flood-lit avenues
or lights at the end of
tunnels. The poet, prosaic,
counts the time until
the thunder arrives.
—Mark Young
Text
or text-
ure. The feel
of
words as
you push them
into
place. Braille
for the eye.
—Mark Young