Summer 2003 • Vol. XXV No. 3/4 Poetry |

From “Masquerade”

12. Asleep on the shattered surface of a cinematic, lunar creek, one of us dreamt the silhouette of a dog, yet found upon waking it hadn't strayed. Such were the spells of a landscape that couldn't be trusted although we'd devised it ourselves, if only to attribute otherwise: a zone where no one believed any longer the hollows that brought them this far, where flowers were blooming again, without any scent. 13. Nor were we immune to such evolve and overwhelm: a diminishing match the frontier of unbreaking, we vexed oscura to spark, hearing it inhabit a new constellation: neither the sisters who cluster for beauty nor Sirius in a bid for omnipotence, but waxflower and ironbark, plainchant of a diesel engine coruscating rock at the edge of across. Where—razorwire spiraled to prevent the dead from defecting, or ghosts from insinuating when least required—a floodlamp brailled the salt flats torn from a page too charred to read, as we wagered who the photographer was, cut

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Borderlands

By Suji Kwock Kim

12. Asleep on the shattered surface of a cinematic, lunar creek, one of us dreamt the silhouette of a dog, yet found upon waking it hadn't strayed. Such were the […]

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