There are many greens. The machine
is self sufficient. And here we are, a drop
in pressure. Ancillary, we dove below
the ether, parting from our thoughts. Then
was elocution. A series of events
between deep brows, covenant like
oppression’s severed scent. What’s alive
is lovely, like patterns over time.
The weaker points are strongest. Weaker wells
of ink, so clearly heard, inches deep
inside. We repent to flutter, revived,
cooled – collected in some clouds, trampled
well through global noon. We say the prayer
with binary effectiveness: open
sesame, repeat, open season
for the sake of elocution. Repeat:
bells. From now and then, to speak of size.
Oscar Oswald earned an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Nevada Las Vegas in 2012. He currently teaches English Composition in Portland, Oregon, and is an intern at the contemporary arts organization Yale Union. He is also an Assistant Editor for Noemi Press. In the summer of 2012 he travelled to Ljubljana, Slovenia, to meet the poet Tomaž Šalamun. His poetry can be found in new or forthcoming editions of The Colorado Review, Lana Turner, Volt, Weekday, and Word For/Word.
At the edge of a great snowfield Louie Otesanek grew different shapes and shades. His palms are wide and dark and mingled with the highest sky. See more of his work here.