Apparition Day

You could say an eye in an hour of darkness is simple substance for anyone. You know the horizon at the end in the usual. In the time of a second stare it’s position of the slower surface, the speed of hand your palm crossed. That’s how a couple of things would shrink into the sleep of the extremely close old things. You might find the true bottom only to surpass the interior appliance. The seepage of light comes close to seeing, but can’t pretend to. A regular day of this weighs on the happy with the feet first. When you live to see skyscraper on Earth’s surface it’s top thrill.

Meanwhile, the career suicide hung around. It used to be bright lights until own special substance exiled. Did you ever know the monad he was?


Try tabling it, manually aright

Try falling, alongside

Get to know in ways time in eye

Its unseen makes sense inside

Ryan Gato is a poet from Maine. He is currently completing his Masters degree at the CUNY Graduate Center with a thesis on the poetics of Russell Atkins. His review of P. Inman's collected poems can be found in Tripwire Magazine. A chapbook is forthcoming from The Hoist press.

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