2 September 2004 | Vol. 4, No. 3
My glasses for this evening are a tangle of wire
and songbirds, for tonight, would rather change to gulls.
The message of this afternoon could be a hollow nest
if fairgrounds in a park can feel this empty.
Paths become grey cinders, as oceans equal water
or all my dark umbrellas, vacant lanterns.
About the author:
Andrew MacArthur is a poet who makes his home in Portland, Oregon, where he also hosts the Meander Open-Mic poetry reading. Andrew has been published in Absinthe Literary Review, Samsara Quarterly, Taverner's Koans, Three Candles, and other journals.