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Page 2 |
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Issue 3 |
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Zeno’s Paradox
He would tell me that every distance contains infinity, as our fingertips create constellations on the universe of the table between us. We sit separated by so little, and yet
the years of silence, the age in your eyes remind us of the impossibility of crossing the gap, grasping the contentment we once held so easily I would ask you to come half-way, where I remember our meeting point,
but we would digress, get lost in the stars, those infinite landmarks that divide here from there, this moment from the others that we once cherished as proof of the impossible We can’t pull off our miracle
anymore. We can’t reach our hands across eternity’s tabletop, and solve this paradox by connecting the cosmos at opposite ends.
— Josh Stewart |
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Halley’s Haiku
Plummeting quasars But the cracks in my concrete Are of my own trembling
— Kelly N. Patterson |
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Nexus
For an instant you were in full swing, the vivid sun at a febrile zenith.
A breath later you bow in transit to the inclement moon, the lethargic gravity.
You make contact, connect, yet merely momentarily for regression begins: you are waning into radiance, a pearl-white orientation where even blackness flirts with fire.
This too to be only temporary: you side-glance, ride the indiscernible line in passage to the dark side, foreglimpse the precise moment when you will be the centre of consciousness at middle arc, equally disconnected, symmetrical.
— Gregory Wm. Gunn |
