SurVision Magazine
An
international online magazine that
publishes Surrealist poetry in English.
Issue
Nine
KARINA van BERKUM
Morning Of
This morning the
light's
Rhombus rays are knife
Tossed into my home.
The sink ticks and I know
If something horrible happens
Later on, I will keep these particulars.
I will fast preserve all that I am,
Even now, readying to forget.
The light knives will be brilliant
And so much bigger.
The dripping faucet will finally
Have its hooks in me.
Rhombus rays are knife
Tossed into my home.
The sink ticks and I know
If something horrible happens
Later on, I will keep these particulars.
I will fast preserve all that I am,
Even now, readying to forget.
The light knives will be brilliant
And so much bigger.
The dripping faucet will finally
Have its hooks in me.
Haunt
I
stand tall
In a tight copse in the forest
I admit slipped my mind.
Living must be
A deconstruction of the slow-souled
Child who stood in for you
Or who you stand crookedly
In for now. Don't you understand?
There's been a death.
These warrened firs breathe more
Quickly now that there is
Somewhere to be.
In a tight copse in the forest
I admit slipped my mind.
Living must be
A deconstruction of the slow-souled
Child who stood in for you
Or who you stand crookedly
In for now. Don't you understand?
There's been a death.
These warrened firs breathe more
Quickly now that there is
Somewhere to be.
Karina van Berkum lives in New England. Her work appears in publications such as Ploughshares, Five Points, and Strange Horizons. She was a 2016 Robert Pinsky Poetry Teaching Fellow at Boston University, where she received the Hurley Prize in Poetry. She is the co-editor of spoKe, a poetry annual. Her first poetry collection is forthcoming from MadHat Press.
