Issue 11
Iron
Stephen Mead
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Hearts Parts
Throughout us go curves,
All nerves & electrical cells &
Brushfire fiber cleaving muscle
To bone & tissues too tactile as they pour
Pore to pore.
Breathing this creates pulses of iron,
The ore of blue metal gunning for blacksmiths,
The smoky compressions between horse shoes,
Brandings & other such marks of trade.
Scorched?
Is the heat of flanks steaming?
Is oil teeming in streams?
Is char spilling away clean
From the sparks & the rubbing
That winds our machinery's clockwork?
Slipping down, glowing, mist cooling
From what smoldered, our spirit's loins
Stretch wider, glide as no other,
For this is light still,
Circle to arc,
Dark calls through
~Stephen Mead
Stephen Mead is an artist/writer living in northeastern NY. Art samples and an extensive resume for him can be found at his website. Email.
© 2003 by Stephen Mead. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2003 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.