Poetry from Mark Young

Yes, Coach

A life broad-
brushed is
limited. Only so
many ways of 
things. There-
fore. Repetition, 
replication. Yes-
terday he
got up &
looked towards the
east, west the day 
before. Today
he is out 
buying a compass, 
learning to do 
things by 
degrees. Minutiae.

in sight

Translucency on 
a different wave-
length. Not light
from behind
but from with-
in. How sweet the 
beets are. Leave
the words      out.


So many things
beginning with the
same letter. No
wonder he was
confused. The court-
yard empty & the
flowers turned
into dust. Never-
theless he pressed 
on with it. Small
animals were
drawn to him.

Reminiscent of a Monet painting

Light is a 
skein on the 
water, is wool
under the eyes 
of astronauts. 
Is the sky de-
rided, a kind of
panopticon. Light
is a sty of argot-
noughts, full of
Goldwyn fleas.  

1 thought on “Poetry from Mark Young

  1. Powerfully intriguing, as always; love the presentation of Monet and the function of light.

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