OXIDANT | ENGINE : Issue 9

Samuel Gilpin

CLOSE YOUR EYES
 

               wet leaves stuck to pavement
                              honeysuckle and ragwort and wild carrot
               the wind violent against metallic chime
                              dividing lines of sight
               where sky meets horizon
 

                              Thoreau: nothing in nature makes sense
 

               translation of the slow light
                              into dusk
               blue shadows lingering
                              even though you cannot

NUMBNESS

               you know the difference
between abundance
               and emergence


               fragments growing daily one at a time
impelling sensations
               in the openings of space where the mind resists


               multi layered stratus
               diminishing into perspective
                              huge and primitive

                              

                                                            gray sheeting rain
                                                                           in migration
               your being’s but a light touch
               slow the soft decay of absence

Samuel Gilpin is a poet originally from Portland, OR, living in Las Vegas, NV, as a Black Mountain Institute Ph.D. Fellow in Poetry at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. A Prism Review Poetry Contest winner, he is currently serving as the Poetry Editor of Witness Magazine and Book Review Editor of Interim. A Cleaveland State University First Book Award finalist, his work has appeared in various journals and magazines, most recently in The Bombay Gin, Omniverse, and Colorado Review.