Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Mark J. Mitchell Night Music My sleepless neighbor Paces while I count his steps. Sky is washed by mist. A siren sets off a dog. Brakes scream, horns bleat. I'm waiting For damp notes from a foghorn. Shunyata Rinsing A water bottle: Play Of air and light, Clarity on Clarity. Practice Of the needless Infernetto The motion is steady, constant. You move always to the left and down. You know about the hole in the center. You know about the reeking fumes. You know about the endless wails. Still, this attenuate and sinister path Is the only path allowed, left and down. There's just one way in. Just one way out. Just one fearsome trail to the stars. Next Poem
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