things start

By David McLean

Poem

things start and stop too soon,
or maybe never; they are eyes
between stars, gross ghosts
and vast absences,

all the missing crystal that god said
was his best medicine, courtly
love refuting nothing. things start.
they grow up to be dead children,

such subtle lesions on innocent skin
and so very little innocence within,
just meat in so many lonely colors,
where things start and go missing

dead things living

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DAVID MCLEAN is Welsh but has lived in Sweden since 1987. He lives there on an island in a large lake called Mälaren, very near to Stockholm, with a woman, cats, and a couple of large black and tan dogs. He has a BA in History from Balliol, Oxford, and an MA in philosophy, taken much later and much more seriously studied for, from Stockholm. Up to date details of well over a thousand poems in various zines over the last three years or so and several available books and chapbooks, including three print full lengths, a few print chapbooks, and a free electronic chapbook, are at his blog.

One response to “things start”

  1. Wonderful work, David. Extremely lyrical and haunting. Glad to have you in the fold, my friend.

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