Literary Work
Tatiana Timofeeva
DREAMING BLIND
BOREDOM
MARK MITCHELL
MARK MITCHELL
In this dream I am a sniper. My sight’s blocked—no, my right eye’s lame. No target offers itself. Sky’s clear— Almost—low clouds. Weather’s the same each night in my dream. I wipe, smear the lens. Nothing moves. This sad game grows cold as snow marked by snipe spoor. I shiver in sheets and reframe my rank. Now I’m a clerk-typist— the Basic dream—tricked on a snipe hunt— crashing through blocked woods, blind and lame.
All dreams bored her. The talent for swimming through time makes other small toys feel dull. She folds herself into a clock sitting on some shelf you won’t see. Her dream face pulls pale men to her outer orbit, rimming space. Inexplicable ballets are danced below her—she’s happy, fitting neat, forgotten on her shelf. She can cull the moments you’ll like and forge pleasant chains to treasure. Then she’ll cut through long yawns just prior to surfacing through night pain to mourning—calm as lost suburban lawns— poised for all time brings: Unrequested dance and song. Only her fierce eyesight remains.
Mark J. Mitchell was born in Chicago and grew up in southern California. His latest poetry collection, Starting from Tu Fu was just published by Encircle Publications. A new collection is due out in December from Cherry Grove. He is very fond of baseball, Louis Aragon, Miles Davis, Kafka and Dante. He lives in San Francisco with his wife, the activist and documentarian, Joan Juster, where he makes his meager living pointing out pretty things.
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NEW READER MAGAZINE
