Size / / /

The wash of moments, like stars
burned out near the beginning of time.

How far it carries reflection, forced in quiet
winter grinding like teeth set in sleep

the galaxy of night which leaves nothing
hot young engines confused for devotion,

patterns springing the speck into life.
Universes you subtract with precision

wholes abstracted with the simple stroke
and the act fingermarked upon the weave.

Remembering the moment of recall
the void where fuel grasps at rocks rushing

with hopes towards their own democratic end --
striving for tenderness, you bring them back,

compressed into the brainblind of space
and smaller than the egg of your first life.

 

Copyright © 2002 Jason Lee

Reader Comments


Jason Lee graduated from Vassar College with a degree in English. His thesis was a collection of poems he worked on with Eamon Grennan. Jason has recently had two poems published in smallspiralnotebook.com.



Bio to come.
Current Issue
4 Nov 2024

“Did you know,” the witch says, “that a witch has no heart of her own?”
Outsiders, Off-worlders {how quickly one carves out a corner of the cosmos, / claims a singular celestial body as [o u r s] in the scope of infinity}
Lunar enby folks across here
Wednesday: The 2024 Ignyte Award for Best Novel Shortlist, Part Two 
Friday: A Place Between Waking and Forgetting by Eugen Bacon 
Issue 28 Oct 2024
Issue 21 Oct 2024
By: KT Bryski
Podcast read by: Devin Martin
Issue 14 Oct 2024
Issue 7 Oct 2024
By: Christopher Blake
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
Issue 30 Sep 2024
Issue 23 Sep 2024
By: LeeAnn Perry
Art by: nino
Issue 16 Sep 2024
Issue 9 Sep 2024
Issue 2 Sep 2024
Issue 26 Aug 2024
Load More