Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Poems by K.R. Copeland   Absolute Motion Absolute Motion An airplane fueling past phone poles, my molecules excited—soon momentum gives to gravity. You land, as Newton planned, stick your science in my literature, kinetically convert me with your girth. Quanta, quanta, quanta, I want more.   Golden Delicious I say, looking up I see no arms, no branches that are worthy of a rotten fruit as beautiful as me.   Hasenpfeffer is a fabulous word, equally so uttered backwards, ref-fef-pne-sah. Too bad it stands for, egad, rabbit stew. I’ve never served it. Can’t get past the fact that bunnies suffered, were beheaded, and then shred to fit with peas upon a spoon. I’d much prefer some squab, or musk ox, emu barbecue. But, then I’d miss the syllables that spring-leap from my mouth when I mention hasenpfeffer’s on the menu.   Next Poem
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