By Douglas Cole
Coming to you live from burnout station.
You’d think it was the Bikini Islands
looking out this double pane bunker glass,
desert, blown down homes and skeletons
frozen mowing their lawns forever.
No news is good news, and you fly
with angel dust and death ash
on your wings. Come here.
I want to look down
the tunnel of your eye
into the universe beginning.
One bone here, one bone there.
I left a delivery note hanging
on the atomic string,
a stone at your door
as if it were an accident,
no hidden key,
but a map to the spring.
Microdot secret handshake
in and in and in
like the incredible shrinking man
standing on the head of a pin,
riding an arrowhead of light
to the cradle of your brain
with an awesome record collection
and late night patter like a gentle rain.
Oh, and I almost forgot: night-cable
winter-black forest-deep tree limbs,
timpani and cymbal brush in the wind,
mystery voice in your head on entering
the solar drive-through. No need to knock
when you get here, just come on in.
Douglas Cole has published six collections of poetry, a novella called Ghost, and the highly praised, well-reviewed novel The White Field. His work has appeared in several anthologies and journals such as The Chicago Quarterly Review, Poetry International, The Galway Review, Bitter Oleander, Chiron, Louisiana Literature, Slipstream, and Spanish translations of work (translated by Maria Del Castillo Sucerquia) in La Cabra Montes. He is a regular contributor to Mythaixs, an online journal, where in addition to his fiction and essays, his interviews with notable writers, artists and musicians such as Daniel Wallace (Big Fish), Darcy Steinke (Suicide Blond, Flash Count Diary) and Tim Reynolds (T3 and The Dave Matthews Band) have been popular contributions. He has been nominated twice for a Pushcart and Best of the Net and received the Leslie Hunt Memorial Prize in Poetry. He lives and teaches in Seattle, Washington. Read more of his work on his website.