Issue 4 Cover_final_web Poecology

Issue 4

 

 
 

F Daniel Rzicznek

 

Moose Factory

 
 
There’s a pattern to
it—but not a thing
repeats: an edge-town

skirting ancient water
darkness emerges through,
leaving woods emptied.

                 ~

Two words on a map,
kin of thousands.
Place a goose flew from

to reach a southern lake
where the sky collapsed,
billowing in reflection.

                 ~

Even the not-knowing
of a place will haunt:
anonymous riverbeds,

moon like a trout scale,
hawks resting at midday,
hunting each morning.