the poetry that matters

Nate Maxson

Nate Maxson is from Albuquerque, NM. He has published poems in Artistica, The Rag and Fourty Ounce Bachelors and published two books, Vaudeville Jihad and I Wished For A Serpent. He is currently a student at the University of New Mexico.


There are no owls in Antarctica
But in my blizzardly daydreams (animals to the untrained mouth)
I see them as clear as the white ice
With cracked centers like summer baseballs hit too hard
(If you can remember such far aways/ please remember)
They’ve prepared our eradications above the frost playing the part of nocturnally sterile bridesmaids
For the rats and scientists that must also be there
Having never stood upon the shore
I have no right
To speak as one who has
But I have hunched
Scheming under the ocean
All the blue weight
I have dueled with insomnia in the engine room of a sinking ship
And to the rodents,
Bats must seem like angels
There’s a statue of a silver cougar outside the library
Nobody goes in there anymore, don’t trust a solitary animal I guess
Your heart was a pill too big to swallow without cutting it in half
And when it was two, that’s when things started to get interesting
Because if one is there then it means nothing
But if two,
Ah if there are two then the others will follow
There is no nightlife in byrdland
The frozen alarm clocks
Are the hungers
Then my father eats apple cores
(He does)
And if I am possible
Then those owls in Antarctica
Must be
Possible somewhere


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                                                                                                           March 13, 2013