Poetry from Mark Young

The Virtue of Crowds

Left alone I would

run out of excuses.

It’s a by-product of

staying too long in

the one place. That’s

the virtue of crowds.

Swept along with no

idea of where I’m go-

ing, not really caring,

too busy sharing other

people’s destinations.

So pick any arbitrary

point to turn even if

still surrounded.

Finally apologizing

if really necessary.

The First Position

Caught by an aberration

in the parameters of the

Library he paused. Stopped

for a moment by a book-

case. Noticed that the titles

were different, were now

written in a language that

was foreign to him. Became

perplexed. Uncertain if it was

a diminuition of his psyche or

simply his eyes playing tricks.

smalltown weekend

The shopping center is

Sunday empty. A State

regulation — remember the

sabbath or some such re-

fried beans. Only the bakery

& the newsagent open. Bread

rolls & Lotto, one certain

one wishful.  But I’m a

believer in musical omens,

so the fact that the left-on-

all-the-time soundsystem is

piping country music into

the passageways as I enter

signs no luck for me today.

Seasonal

Broad brushstrokes

of smoke across

the landscape. Point-

illist pain in my

head, just behind

the ear. Everything

closes in, is

focused. Nothing

I can do but

cut myself another

slice of watermelon,

lie back, &

think of England.

The Dichotomous Key

If it has these attributes

then it is this.  

Otherwise it is not this.

& if it is not this, but has

these other attributes

then it is that.  

Otherwise it is not that.

If it is neither this nor

that, but possesses another

set of characteristics

then…..

& so on

down the line, eliminating

the alternatives by

counting in turn the

wings, legs, body

segments, etc.

so that you

might start off

with the spider

& end up

with the fly.

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