• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 05
Image by

The Zone

of heaven
for the season of blue glass.

They told me
that when I got here
I would step inside the iceberg
hanging in the sky above the land
it had once passed over,
two co-ordinates
far apart in time
returned to the locus
where they intersected.

An impossible

A shaft in the ice
but no sense of direction
or of gravity. Long ago now.

I could stand
under a tree
and look up
then turn
and fall
onto the ice above,
to drop like a human stalactite,
but feel
no mass,
no rush
of blood.


The Zone

On arrival, I would understand.
I would know where they had been.
Only once you have seen it, they assured me,
would you know that which may never be explained
to one who does not know.
A hymn of landscape jazz.
A clash of conditions,
a disregard for the laws of —
If you break the laws
of physics here,
you get a suspended —

time off for good

time off for

time off



ime calved off the iceberg.

That is
what I saw
when I came here.

That is what I found.

That is
what I will find
when I come here.

That is what will find me.


The Zone

I went there
tomorrow. I will go there
yesterday. Has anybody
found him?
I need to tell him what I am seeing will see are you getting this down?

A painted
backdrop to a forest.
The sky turns to ice
calving off the glacier
of time.

The boom breaks
the air
clearing of
a supersonic throat

the start
of the race
to the end

the closing
of an eyelid

the opening