the prestige years

four and twenty ways wound
so loose all over
and tight in the right places
blowing billows under the lampshade
and over the porcelain sumo
reminding me in their receding depth
of the clouds an hour ago
departing doug with definition
designs on holiday inhalations
accompanied with accomplishment
personified, miles, in early expert
no one here but my keen sense
and the detective's eye
trained by Goren and Rockford
tells me they're tying rope
probably at Aubrey's
jealous a little but cognisant
of how easy it all is and small
so a trip through Brooklyn
for a sip of bourbon
something intoxicating and tall

By Robert Lescatre
Photo: Sarah Aubrey

somewhere in Colorado- photo J.G.

"Late at night, tossing sleeplessly in his bunk, the boy kept wondering. The mountain was not one great big solid rock as it appeared from below. It was a million, trillion pieces all held together without cement: some hard, some soft, in all shapes and patterns, burned brown on the outside and gray inside, some with a purplish streak, but all with a preponderant delicate pink tinge against the snow. But it had lost its benign personality. It reflected a monstrous, impersonal force that pressed him from all sides. he was suddenly, mightily afraid."
"'What keeps the Peak from fallin' down on us?' He blurted out in darkness. 'I mean-"'
"From Abe's bunk came the usual silence. Jake let out another snore. But suddenly from across the room came two testy words in answer. 'Isostatic equilibrium!' And then a moment later, 'God Almighty, this time of night!'"
"Isostatic Equilibrium: it haunted him for years, both the phrase and its ultimate meaning. And not until long afterward did he realize that each of us has his own vocabulary for even Him who made the Word."
"Thus he came to know that high realm of rock, the peak itself. Week after week the snowcap steadily receded. By day the drifts melted and trickled down into the cracks and crevices. By night the water froze and wedged the rocks apart. One heard, if only in his imagination, an eternity of sharp reports and booming explosions when the boulders finally split asunder. But to all this expansion and contraction, the rhythmic pulse of constant change, the peak remained immutable, bigger than the sum of its parts."
-Frank Waters, from "The Colorado" 1946.

Colorado Ave.

"Colorado Ave"
by James Gagnon
24in x 30in, canvas and acrylic





part-time pine street

pink skies crying
white wine and poetical prose
rain in waves
between degrees of decadence
porched solitarily
with thoughts of lifestylish leaps
left steps or long jogs
while the wind brings
sounds from street level
ambitious and homeless
every week another issue
like lou says have a tissue
melodies without microphones
found far from phoenix
where whims while wantonly
d.j. jauntily jams
no longer going over-heeled
notorious and subliminal
wine from lesser grapes last
licked from your 'stache
what does the sky say
tonight when troubles weigh
tonnage and torque turning radius
too much technique to tally
spray painted packaging
poorly purveyed petulance
made in portland
part-time pine street

poem by Robert Lescatre