Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

You could place :: An opposite waving a flag troubled
on the ocean floor in a posit of sand and silica turning the water
blue - not a blue like this eye but one in a dream
that reminds one, a child of 8, 6 maybe 2 of dyes:
              Ostern Hase chocolate eggs mother
dipping the Eier my ayah, who held us during our bout with dyslexia, 
                                                                        liked making words
into pretzels and smothering them with fudge. A Sunday of thickness which we supine prey and thank the gods of the sky (which is blue
                                                                   but not like the water).
                        She told me that physics had its own beauty
                                    is beautiful, still, moving a sense of velocity
                               nothing terminal in the arc of a dielectric
                        but they say: everything has to stop/ what goes up
                                                                must come down/ this is
all eventual/ a rose by any other name/desire is [a: biological] is [b: a
                                                                                  construct] is
purpose in purposelessness/we could go on but
the page the only thing that keeps, wraps around an instant
a message sent, quickening
a heartbeat lying on a minute to itself (what else but this separates
                                                                       fiction from fiction?)
would have the nerve to place itself above
the rest, a breath that pauses:: a period here that does not stop the
                                                                                                          wandering eye.