Issue 14 • 2011



Five Poems


by Mark Young





A line from Ludwig Wittgenstein



The artifice of rhyme

is an inexpensive form

of market research

that causes food to come


out whole in your feces.

Art mingles with the

natural landscape, but

the values of coffins


in no way match the

values of genuine parts

for a Harley-Davidson.

Logic is transcendental.







A line from Calvin Coolidge



Learning the trapeze

appeases many of the

concerns related to

academic tenure, but a


small limestone seawall

covered with lichen

can be just as effective.

Sure there’s a downside


to the latter option.  Some

of the cultural references—

never go out to meet

trouble, never get to know


the staff directly by their

names, never use an avatar

which shows you topless—

are anachronistic, & the


whole looks something like

a mid 70’s Ford Escort.  But

if you’re scared of heights

then there’s an upside.  I


took the camera with me

to work again today

but left all my memory cards

at home.  So foolish of me.







A line from Friedrich Dürrenmatt



Your account has been

suspended.  Another

small step towards being

able to make your own


bricks.  This self-organizing

process has a socially

preferable mix of outputs—

no buds or flower stalks,


shuttered titles, no layoffs.

Add a dynamic portal

engine to it, & undesirable

head winds will be all


but eliminated.  Barely ex-

changed words.  One step

back.  Layers of trimmings

with feathers, crinoline.


Effects.  Pedals.  The machines

resume, a brief flurry.  The

most interesting ones are

often still.  Late Autumn.







A line from Günter Grass



Black’s cognate is blue.

Is marked by a white

obelisk.  It traps the

light through a mixture


of conceptual footage &

carefully edited video

clips of the iconography

found in recombinant


DNA.  In cemeteries you

can summon up courage

or new dimensions of

belief without the hassle


of drawing names from

a hat.  Longitudinal views

cut through the despair.  The

scene includes a juggler.







A line from Paracelsus



They exchange few

words.  He: black sand,

sea turtles, salt.  Moist

shady areas.  She: the


tree potentially contains

the pear.  Different

combinations of lights

inform the etiquette.


The sign outside is

small, in English & He-

brew.  Closed Saturdays.

It’s an observant shop.









Mark Young is a New Zealander who has been publishing poetry for more than 50 years.  His most recent books are Genji Monogatari (Otoliths), At Trotsky’s Funeral (Kilmog Press) and some Geographies (Argotist Press).