When I am in the water, clotted with the stars,
I start to hum—then sing—with a perverse longing
for the city. I wake up a ghost with blurred edges,
or as a distant mourner attending your wake.
...
The dirt beneath the stones is filthy & frantic.
The branch cast on the ground sweats slowly in the grass.
Static radiates from windows with a harsh hum
as cats howl—celebrating my success.
...
Conley Lowrance began writing poetry after an aborted career in punk rock. His endeavors in writing led him to the University of Virginia, where he received his BA in poetry writing. His poems have appeared in publications put out by Tupelo Press, Gadfly, Counterexample Poetics, Word Riot, The Virginia Literary Review, and A Clean, Well-Lighted Place, among others. As described by Gadfly Managing Editor Matthew Conover, Conleys take on Surrealism challenges the trickle of sensory experience that makes up your perspective. Currently, Conley is writing a detective novel while living and working in Manhattan with his wife and four cats.)
Self-Portrait At A Distance
When I am in the water, clotted with the stars,
I start to hum—then sing—with a perverse longing
for the city. I wake up a ghost with blurred edges,
or as a distant mourner attending your wake.
Reduced to a fallen object—sealed in your hands—
I will be like champagne—& only my molars will last.
I will only walk through slanted, well-lit backstreets
to experience a succession of tropic scenes.
I will not walk alone, swung loose from this petrified sky.
I will find your eyes in the traffic lights—
& will be released from this spinning
only by the bonfire of our faces.