from Kos


Steven Salmoni





         , in the auditor’s repair


                                  the sun, and prior body, hypothesized


so the fan-palm augured, the leaf still



for its agency to recover more than moved to belay

    a music gone cold


[with respect

                   to a system for the dead


originally: (The music to turn cold with respect to a system of respect,

                   another music for the dead)]


decisively apart, the letter read,


         more than moved where lay the movement






So with regard to derivation, why does he laugh? And what are

the meanings of the supplicant? I hold that reality, if present



                             the most common patterns are irregular

                             in themselves, events are



A man falls;

the street who


         is passing laughs


                                                       “the letter wrote (for it was written)


                   the moon underlined

                   the volcanoes of Lancerota

                   Forteventura covered with ashes


         and now the years


my darling







Sage exclusions from the wall

         in root water some time not immortal, germ, and it is numerous


The water lies, but unifies



    the palm of your hand we know as loss, the call not found


    the millet oath, while deleted,

                        is still a sense. Is bitter, the palm, your hand



a certain decline and

                                                 is a cloud not a horse


“the clouds, farther and

                   to speak, deciduous






I will hide you say, the transition is complete, the line of instruments

     a-row upon each side, the ground, the infinitive


         mixed with our long echo



the instrument, collateral, the clay


                   seemed to be a star, and


                   the case is implicit, you said



                             to name the state to echo sequence


                             to plot, this function,





                                            not to hide the field









Steven Salmoni’s recent publications include A Day of Glass, the chapbook Landscape, With Green Mangoes (both from Chax Press) and poems in Otoliths, Puerto del Sol, P-Queue, The Brooklyn Review and Interim.  Selections from his work have also appeared in the anthologies The Experiment Will Not Be Bound (Unbound Editions, 2022) and The Last Milkweed (Tupelo Press, forthcoming 2023).  He teaches at Pima Community College in Tucson, AZ and also serves on the Board of Directors for Chax Press and for POG, a Tucson-based literary and arts organization that hosts an annual reading series. 



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