Tuesday, July 24, 2012

W.M. Lobko



We first suspected you wanted more absence
when an occlusion ended too soon, a blunder
of light, the day’s live origins spreading

into these eagles silhouetted by the sun.
Fiber optics lengthened our reach, but our uncertainty
increased.  How does one lay a foundation?

Toddlers from the plains ran laps around us.
We were in the past: oblivion, billions.  You are the era
of emails from the moon colony which remind us,

after stitching a star in our eye, that we’re captured.
Your nemesis sketches of some stranger keeps us 
quiet, smarting still from being mentioned.

W. M. Lobko’s poems, interviews, & reviews have appeared in numerous journals, including Kenyon Review Online, Sixth Finch, Hunger Mountain, & Boston Review. New work is forthcoming in Slice Magazine. His poetry has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. His MFA is from the University of Oregon, & his home is New York City, where work on his poetry manuscript Kin Anthem and his novel The Quick Brown Fox doggedly continues.