Natalie Roll




A Question for Sam*


Why does something as full as the ocean resonate with hollowness?



Cellos in the dark.

Pearlescent foam

rolling over sand

pools itself together.


Water folds in on itself.


The sound of shells, tunnels, and distant cars carry me to you:

now

you've past.

I'm trying to say "I miss you"

with the mood

of waking up

dripping in thoughts

to the morning of your empty space -


like the dust-mingled air of Dorian Grey




*This is one of two poems in this issue dedicated to the memory of Sam August. Read Emily Hunerwadel's "August" here.



O

One x in a vast oval - the opal on fire Ribbons mirror blue to black & white If Pointalism were The point as the words of signification grow meaningless. Saussure, Nabokov, Rumi . Wideness keeps seeking for ruin (I run)




Ghoul School_ time machine

h t e e ~ b . p to ; demolished a e t v & h a re placed i h t s y a l e m f



Cobs

...cobwebs cradle the electricity of your old storied floors not alien planets wish again, you golden ghouls. this isn't a love letter or a muses song everyone needs no one in their life light without shadows falls madness into sadness there is no truth that exists solely on the ownership of one. Let's say you believe in me, & , I believe you ... in you slips like satin sheets h i lips to roll fleshy bites p s bury the borrower's soul to depths of bulky blue, seen-unseen too.




Eating a Thought

Could Food + Care = L O V E ? If I consistently confuse bi-polar with bi-sexual all the time - what does that mean? man.. Is a jack-of-all-trades really a master of none? theses * these pieces of coy-tations acting like sewer tongues - or could they be cut from a traumatic wave of cloth, not felt, by sanguated hands.



Kitchen Window

My fears speak to me like mermaids _____ they told me to write that l i ^a n |n e Straight up |d _ . _ - _ -\ d o - \ n Air \ w circuitry - _ _ does not circle, polygraph the heart, or was it the love? Who could ever see a shape for a feeling. Portents could be portals not prophets, if only they s m e l l e d like something else.

Natalie Roll began writing suddenly in 2015 and continues to write.