Issue 18: Cal Revely-Halder

marina

1

they ride in sky the face of

a metal fringe kissing swell

deep role of climate heat

slide polished by ranges

of fancy morning finger

2

there is a crane, they insist, & a

light on the hill, & the water

rising in, there is a crane, so you

look for the light, they insist on

the water rising in, you the light,

& the crane, they insist on the

water, you see the crane, & the

light, they insist on the water

(you see the crane, they insist you

see the light & the water rising)

they insist on phrases & speech like,

lay your petals on the blossom

of the sea

                                                                    or,

we saw her beautiful like a barque,

sliding in

                                                                    or,

only balsa is varnished & stable,

from one year to the next

                                                                    or,

she descended like water hung

from the hills, mother bliss on the

face of the future

(you look for the light, & the water)

3

later you sit & you creep & pen the

hymn for the windows above the town

giving their lights down into the sea

riding the swell & the rising heat

cloud castle

vatic you sultry mushroom head

down dip dance the pixels green,

cut tacitly angle-faced creeps

w/ big sticky plans, coded &

pulsing level-up bounce a box

now. basta boy, what a round

face like a cherry

                                     ragey on the

embarcadero, its something hot

new sentinel shot, the goons

beat the loop high to glory in

candy hat : all prizes for the

forest world

                          link up modern

fun socket tellingly jacked a

music eyebloom, down the wires,

flurry rascal in peaks & the

impossible unreal dragon kick

lamplines

a kingdom of souls is in the flag,

manna from heaven. tell us all again:

proximity covers nothing distance

eating the sands of something lonely

like loneliness, or sanctity, or just

white dress flutters over the sea.

dammi un’occhiata, & see

spectral red released to me,

slim lovely redness oh

gape cat-like at the crease

without the talent or being

bare upon the massif

the seaward blue film now catches us

exploring americans. now the palms

around this our still & honeyed

night, hot too long to flick away.

so darling blue into the glass, &

time, in continual ferry motion.

heavy crane (antwerp)

is suddenly present, being

blasted wide through abstract

(geometric) labour, sings

the hymn of a dead steel

we compose to, raising

productive onto the new

horizon & longing, lost

for the blue, a ready thing

it is & shall be worked upon

Cal Revely-Calder is, among other things, a contributing editor at both minor literature[s] and the Cambridge Humanities Review. He lives outside London.

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