swifts  &  s l o w s · a quarterly of crisscrossings

earthistles
s. g. mallett

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The Unity of Error

Each grain of glass catches
new light, I’m the genius I’m
in love with, black eyed
susans and their bracts,

any shocks sent
between koi
in the pond of the mind
are lost as artifacts

are lost, by a trick of the like
light or something. A circle within
a triangle within
a circle. It’s their sugar content,

she says, pouring homemade
maple mead through
the hole of a flute.
Any form the works assume

do not stand as synonyms
for history. Something about
wild horses, elucidate me
for me through the night.

Selfission

Tensiontic Emblemerald
Talismention ennuits strongholden daysinsand nightears
Praiseach boneiric
Echoeuvre pourselves
Pareidoliaison breathens heartist
Earthistles

From Silo to Silo

It is not poetry: it is not metapoetry; it is
not antipoetry nor nonpoetry, amoral
menses of poetic airs. It is the air fans
carve: snows make rains of it, picture
the letters queueing; say a rabbit darts
between the spokes, wave the waiter
over—it is fine.
Assume starting positions it. You fall
into sleep again. Minor poets braid each
other’s filaments via it, hair by the light it
casts sits like oil slicks shimmer under city
nights, dried into stains in the major
poet’s big day, a hand-
shake none remember.

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s. g. mallett  lives in Quebec, and his collection of poems Disparate Logoi is forthcoming from ABP, and Markov Chainmail is forthcoming from Cactus Press. He holds a degree in philosophy and literature from Concordia University. He reads manuscripts for Atticus Review, and he reads poetry for Sepia Quarterly.