Brandon North

Transversal (“I iterate into the city”)

I iterate into the city / to step between the people / they pause in awkward postures / until I halt / on a boulevard median / a large bulb lunges out of the ground / when I stare / contiguous units of grass shift / in a static whole / the flower blooms / with one petal absent / my finger / reports into the interstice / until my nail glimmers / a film played in reverse / inside my unexposed skin / I observe myself / above an impression / my childhood body / spasms in stop motion / toward a divide / I look down in / to myself / I say / in the freefall / the ravine flattens / before my mind inverts / a surface of dust funneled into my eyes

Transversal (“a heavy rain evaporates”)

a heavy rain evaporates / just as clouds unfold over the dune / wind searches my empty urn / for hours / I bury myself well / in the sand / the urn covers my head / for hours / unseen water drips onto my hair / while I sleep / through the night / an orange river appears / beside my loosened footprints / I assume nothing at all / parts of the toxic stream / carry a garbage anagram / away from the view of the city / I shadow a scorpion

Transversal (“at a salient coastline”)

at a salient coastline / I’m led to a portion of styrofoam / still soaked with saltwater / an immortal jellyfish / the little girl tells me / the jellyfish simplifies itself / by aging in reverse / slushes of shapes appear / through a time lapse / a polyp growth rooted in styrofoam / as waves gnaw the shore / the polyp is punctured / with the edge of driftwood / I nudge the injured being / toward the shoreline / a boat approaches / across the channel / I decide to go / when the ferryman sings in my voice / he takes my unearthed coin / from my tongue

Transversal (“awakened by the crash of water”)

awakened by the crash of water / on stone pots / outside / no actual monks / note the storm / now freed of my intermittent amnesia / I organize provisions in a bag / as the rain unites with the sea / I remember / words scraped on a dead fish / thrown into a black delta / among others / I dare not desire / a more vivid world / within the terrain of letters / gnats never earn a heaven of fruit / though I wrote / letters are terrain / in a book of obvious demands / lines cross lines / in nets / fog condenses / on the knot of a redwood

Brandon North writes from Ohio, where he is poetry editor for the literary journal Whiskey Island. He received an MFA from the Northeast Ohio MFA program (NEOMFA), through which he worked for the Cleveland State University Poetry Center. Recent work is forthcoming or appears in Crixeo, The Bombay Gin, Quarterly West and decomp.