Monthly Archives: August 2012

Does Anyone Else Also Hear This?

By Matthew Kenneth Kosak

Does anyone else, also hear this?
The wind of time that makes us feel small?..and sense of wonder, large?
And now we (as a species mind you) have discovered other worlds.
The astronomers found water worlds, a diamond planet-
As if our own isn’t vast enough!
Whatever is here manifests itself elsewhere.
The universe around us, the local ‘neighborhood' is taking shape,
things, bodies, come out of the darkness..asteroids fly by,
and a (female) moon covered in ice piques us with questions of life there.
Where will we be in a hundred years?

Words are discovered, the ones already hovering
in muscles ripe for movement,
another noun gives us a door.
A pretty muse dangles at the buffet,
of days, of hours, of poisons of inactivity.
There's no use in waiting.
The silent message is (once again?) to act and


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The White Hot Optimism

by Matthew Kenneth Kosak

So come now, what will you do here
that has not yet been done before?
What new tricks might you play?
from beneath a well worn sleeve?

What will come of this tired mansion made of objects of the past?
Trials of the past, like a breeze tossing in the curtains,
a burning desire, kept now safely against cold stone walls

It is the white hot optimism
that burns at the edges of clouds.
You've seen it in those photographs I took,
once while I watched you play nimbly, with a flower stem betwixt your thumbs.
It was a Saturday, the eleventh of May...

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A Person Unwinds Like A Top

by Matthew Kenneth Kosak


These are nothing’s really

Just visions, the carbons of reality

How simple they are


A person unwinds like a top

along a rope

Taught between two trees

His motion flickering to and fro, like the ends of

The last bits of the flame

That reach (balance) across the autumn plane

Forth through time, extending

Between the existences

The times of yesterday jumps and hops

The backwards’ and forwards’ from today’s, and tomorrow’s,

Hot on these steely pages, fresh, crackling (with vivid real)

 snow in the receiver, a sparkle in the eye

See the motion in everything, as a heated thing vibrates, in heat,

Translated its motion, from a collection of the infinitesimal the invisible hands

From time culminating, from purpose converging, from the tiny vibrations

Moving as one inside, her body now in a kind of dance

I wonder if she knows it

How simple it really is

This response

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The Nameless Things

by Matthew Kenneth Kosak  

(In A scene from a story..)


..And soon the exchanges

that were once so difficult,

so fraught with the potential for mistake and error,

become effortless.

The contract

(the meeting of their performance)

is no longer a thing of words.

Not even for the nameless things that slip meaningless,

From what matters most.

They are all presaged

by her entry through the door,

as she brings these contracts,

how quickly conventions fall away.

The page dissolves,

and the letters float freely into the sky.

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