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Two poems by Ray Malone


Borrowed form 11



Then there was what to do.

So long alone with the lines.

Let go. Watch them wither.

Wilt. To a stop. Stare


at the ones ahead, the ones

resting by the river. With the sun

upon them, the air of wondering

lending them. Less than weight.


More than light. Wait where you are

while time slows to a stop, the water

pauses, for a portrait of itself.

Smiling. Say farewell to the page.


Wander on to the one to come.

The lines left behind. Let them.

Alone with themselves.







Scene 33



i

Where the snow lay white

without trace


but for the eye


and the sound of it

underfoot under feet


and the name and the face

at every step


of the way


ii

The strain we say

the strings drawn across


the pitch that sings

its perfection


as the wind in the wires


the endless bow’s length

its infinite friction


iii

As the snow melts the song’s

laid bare


lays bare


the way she went


iv

Once the music was written

it was impossible to say


where





Ray Malone is an Irish writer and artist living in Berlin, Germany, in recent years working on a series of projects exploring the lyric potential of minimal forms based on various musical and/or literary models. His work has appeared in numerous print and online journals in the US, UK and Ireland.


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