Interview with an Immortal

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Interview with an Immortal

I don’t live the finite life, but life revived
within each mind. I’m not a mind, like the kind
I entertain; but when we meet, we share
a brain, where I’m alive, but not contained.

My planet is an active mind, aroused
through time; an ageless host, I know, but note:
parasites don’t enrich a life; I give
back what time invests. Though I have no flesh,

I have a form, and a depth; I just need
a being to give me being. When it leaves,

My end is not a death; just a break between
the lives that give me mine. From a line
my life extends, pulled by needle through each head,
and hurts: Sublime—suturing immortal life.

Copyright © by Kevan Copeland

This poem appeared previously on the Very Nice, Very Nice blog under the pseudonym Anthony Zanetti.

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The Red Desert

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The Red Desert
*after Antonioni

There is a mind inside an island. By the brim

Of her shore, a boy culls from the sand; a ship,
Unmanned, scores the gulled coast
While cormorants repose on the glittering rose.

From the ocean, Poseidon is goading the shore.
Drops spray the boy’s back. He is shelled
To attack; his searching turns in; becomes

An internal thing. Friulian lyrics
Smooth crests from within. Who sings
Dialectic, in dialect unseen?

It is the island; it is everything.

Copyright © by Kevan Copeland

This poem appeared previously on Cosmoetica under the pseudonym Anthony Zanetti.