The sealers lose all sense of motion. One man \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 heaves but another mystery <\/p>\n <\/p>\n He\u2019d let that fire breed all summer. The kitchen became <\/p>\n <\/p>\n His hands \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 like fixed animals Himself \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 stretched horizontal The banks \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0engulfed in roses <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Months erode. My face <\/p>\n <\/p>\n All practiced Catholick Magick won\u2019t bring back: ___________________<\/span>not meant to accomplish any more <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Spending their days wrist-deep in death, Dreamfish open easy as envelopes an exaltation of mer-maids, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cCan anyone tell me who invented the lightbulb?\u201d One boy raised his hand. \u201cPATRICK O\u2019REILLY<\/strong>,\u201d he replied. As the class erupted with laughter, he could feel his face turn bright as one of O\u2019Reilly\u2019s Irradiant Lamps. \u201cBut he did,\u201d he cried, \u201che did!\u201d It was true on his home planet.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Fire Down on the Labrador The sealers lose all sense of motion. Unscathed below their puny disaster, a dozen fathomless dimensions _______\u2014 a bulk of ice, a gliding whale, pressed rib to rib, too snug for light. One man \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0… Continue Reading
\nUnscathed below their puny disaster,
\na dozen fathomless dimensions
\n_______<\/span>\u2014 a bulk of ice, a gliding whale,
\npressed rib to rib, too snug for light.<\/p>\n
\nhimself off
\nlike a jilted lover, leaves his coat
\nof flame on the oceantop, falls until
\nhe is nothing<\/p>\n
\nwedged into negative space.<\/p>\nCnoc Ailse<\/h1>\n
\nThe furnace, too, til she burnt bone
\ndry. You\u2019d be boilt. He\u2019d be
\nin three sweaters, shivering. Grinning.<\/p>\n
\nA cavern of smoke, baccy yellow
\nphlegm that dripped from low arches,
\nbloomed in the walls
\n___________________<\/span>til they wheezed
\nto life, puffed and swelled,
\ntipped and sighed,
\n________________<\/span>ached
\nwhen the neighbours plucked his body
\nout like a brown tooth. The crooked hobbler,
\nthat whole time carrying
\nthat hoof-sized secret in his lung.<\/p>\nHimself<\/h1>\n
\n_________ _____<\/span>the soil inextricable
\n_________ _____<\/span>from his fingernails<\/p>\n
\n_________ _____<\/span>the evergreen scarp of eyes
\n_________ _____<\/span>a saline mist<\/p>\n
\n________ ______<\/span>himself inextricable
\n________ ______<\/span>skull spine and cradle<\/p>\nPrivate Conversation<\/h1>\n
\ninherits your face.
\nYour eyes flob
\nbeneath my new-furrowed
\nbrow, newly steep.
\nMy skin tans
\nover your jaws,
\ngaunted from singing your songs,
\ngrinding the crop of your dust.
\nThe grey, unshaved crookedness
\nis strange. It\u2019s wonderful strange
\nto be your daughter\u2019s son,
\nto watch her eyes knit
\nand purl away quick as if
\nshe has opened a door which should have stayed closed.<\/p>\nThe Witch i nGrief<\/h1>\n
\nShe scours for red, red roses in the gravel.
\nSte. Anne waters vialed turn bubble-brackish,
\nnot meant to travel,<\/p>\n
\nthan straightening crooked legs, evicting gout.
\nIf one should find the rose of St. Therese
\nburning red on red upon his stone,
\nsnuff it out.<\/p>\nFishguts<\/h1>\n
\nhating it, even in night-sized doses.
\nEven in sleep the Old Hands exaggerate,
\ntwo quick blessing slashes
\nwake long-suffering wives.<\/p>\n
\nbefore the offal seeps through their sheets
\ninto morning. In daylight
\nthe knife slips beyond hatred
\nto what might be waiting for them:<\/p>\n
\na vengeance of cod-faced devils.<\/p>\n
\n
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