Speculative Fiction and Poetry
Common Sense
David Russell
The sea turns sound to touch
The wind blows touch to smell
The sun turns sight to touch
The grasses smell taste to touch
The animals taste smell to see
The setting of sets charge to five together
Yet there can only be a holding of two –
The sign for a straight line
Is negative.
Two intersections against purity
Thought’s stopgap substitute for a positive
Like skin the filtering wall,
The consonantally splintered phoneme.
The sea waved the hail to touch
The wind hailed the wave to touch
Hello: life is a shocking coil.