Sweet Plenitude<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Aurora Borealis reminds me <\/p>\n “Sweet Plenitude” is reprinted from The New Poet.<\/a><\/p>\n Mark Simpson\u2019s work has appeared in a number of magazines, including Hiram Poetry Review, Cream City Review,<\/em> Faultline<\/em>, and Poetry Quarterly, <\/em>and online in Full of Crow,<\/a> Albatross,<\/a>\u00a0and Dialogist.<\/a><\/em>\u00a0<\/a>He works in Seattle as writer for an instructional design firm. A chapbook, Fat Chance<\/em>, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Sweet Plenitude The Aurora Borealis reminds me of the disappointed\u2014 the bum on the street, the little girl not invited to the party. Early one fall I saw it. I stood on the back patio at 3am looking northward, … Continue reading
\nof the disappointed\u2014
\nthe bum on the street, the little girl
\nnot invited to the party.
\nEarly one fall I saw it.
\nI stood on the back patio at 3am
\nlooking northward,
\nand made out, finally, the streaked sky\u2014
\nwashed out colors indistinct
\nagainst the dark.
\n3am for this,<\/em> I thought, retuning to bed,
\nthe magnetic flexure of air carrying on
\nits vexed dance without me.
\nThe bum wakes from his cold nap
\nand the little girl turns on the TV.
\nI lie sleepless for the rest of the night.
\nWhat has become of the fullness
\nwe have been promised?
\nIn the wood lot, owls have left
\nthe bones of mice\u2014
\nso many under the green pines.
\nDay after day of enumeration.
\nThe sun\u2019s white disk behind early fog,
\ntoo weak to cast shadows\u2014
\nso that things must stand for themselves,
\nfrost-edged, claiming their own territory.<\/p>\n