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poet

Shanna Compton

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Shanna Compton

Shanna Compton is the author of three books of poetry, most recently Brink (Bloof Books, 2012). Her book-length speculative poem,The Hazard Cycle, is forthcoming from Bloof Books in 2018. She works as a freelance book designer, writer, and editor in Lambertville, New Jersey.

by this poet

poem
Rain interchangeable with
the walls it falls against
alphabetless like a neon
ring above an extincted
window showcasing something
formerly fabulous now
kinda poignantly disappeared.
I guess that means we're back
in Seaside (since we must
begin somewhere) and it's
probably summer but
can't be as long ago
as the
poem

Last week Mars suddenly got a lot closer.
It used to be the place we'd throw out
as impossible, utterly unreachable, so red
and foreign and sere. Not anymore.
And I'm trying to figure out why watching
the panorama makes something in the hot core
of me crumple like a swig-emptied can,

poem
I watched in horror as the man hung
half a pig by a hook in the window.

Nearby, the sea shone or something.
Nearby, the wingspan of a hawk cast an elongated shadow.

I listened with horror to the words I was missing.
A wrongness was growing in the living moon.

& nearby, the sea rolled endlessly.
Nearby,
2