Flashes the fabled casino on the French sea
I have wanted this quiet for so long and everything
else can go fuck itself meanwhile I am going to be
the biggest possible thing I am not going to apologize
for admiring myself I can barely recall myself
a small open meaning a small open drink I think I am
made of unwanted feasts trembling like eggs
along the horizon.
No more things should be presumed to exist than
are absolutely necessary.
- William of Ockam, 14th century
All morning the stained glass demons frenzy their
weird asses and naked arrows their fingers that point
everyone pretends not to notice ah
here is the man of the hour! fried bread and warm beer
this kills me for hours I follow a red bobbing light
to wake at night knowing something moves through
the rushes to hear a voice from the neighboring
village radial and splendid call out my name.
Ansley Clark is an MFA candidate at University of Colorado Boulder, where she also teaches creative writing. Her poems have appeared in or are forthcoming from Sixth Finch, Jellyfish, DIAGRAM, Denver Quarterly, Black Warrior Review, and elsewhere. Her chapbook Geography will be released from dancing girl press in fall 2015.