Issue 16 · 2012




Four Poems


by David Appelbaum





The trench with Tieresias



Sullen marks

deplete Circe’s canvas


under towering wells

throat blood-dry


a gentle whip

my heart


if still, a drop

that I am


clings to a lip

of the brass faucet


somewhere above

earth’s eternal gutters





On the epiphany



a burlesque fire

while rattles dance the edge

a tower with fury

against the rising winter moon


one pale eye, the other rages

clawing for the naked branch

five heads above

but now closes in ash

now a-mire, pity

now less than nothing


while a prank pearl pupil

looks through a thin veil

a veil so veiled

no way to hold one

apart from itself

that veiled gaze

seeing what ashes say

but unable to tell








the hourglass curves

for good reason

near as full throng

pared to a loss

in the dark cauldron


I am that stone

cast to the bottom

with water refusing

the last passage


as when wind ceases

leaves fail to fall








Since then, appearance

only by surprise

in familiar places—

a hem of a skirt

in neon

a dog trademark

a secret code


always live that

high white contrail

the pure story

is never told


but expired

in a search










David Appelbaum lives in the Shawangunk Mountains.  His most

recent poetry collection is Jiggerweed (Finishing Line Press, 2011).