Alison Ross

Numbers 
 
I woke up, and the number nine was green. That really pissed me off, as the New York skies were fragrant with fish wafting over pine trees. Presently, I dipped into the ocean and washed myself of all my transgressions before repudiating the number nine, which rusted right before my eyes. If only numbers knew how much the soil needs them to stay put, and not wander off with crayons in the night. 
 
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Echo Echo 
 
I am an echo of my shadow. I am empty of time. I walk through mazes of darkness, blindfolded. I howl into a hollow mirror. I am a voiceless void.
 
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Dialects of Clocks 
 
He swallows a clock and exhales an eternity of ashes. The world burns and she gulps gasoline to quench the fire. His thirst rusts his throat and he thaws into a sculpture of the sea. 
 
She merges with the mountains and spits scripts of sand.
 
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Sète
 
The wind sliced the day in two. One half was ocean; the other half was sky. The sun refused to take sides and dripped its yolk into the sea; setting the sky aflame, it extinguished itself, and the world was black, and windless. 
 
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Mirror Mirror 
 
The mirror multiplies the labyrinths of time into infinities of oblivion multiplies the mirrors of time into labyrinths of infinity multiplies the mirrors of oblivion into a time of labyrinths 
 
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I Spy Eyes 
 
The spy eyes what lies beyond the eyes. But the eyes spy the spy’s lies. The lies lie beyond the spy’s eyes. The spy’s eyes lie. ​

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Clockwise Cat publisher and editor Alison Ross pioneered the genre and tenets of Zen-Surrealism, and uses those as her guiding aesthetic. She has published poetry in journals such as Chiron Review, Otoliths, Maintenant, and First Literary Review - East. She also writes reviews for PopMatters. Clockwise Cat is thrilled to announce a new focus on prose poetry, so please do take a gander and submit your creations.