breaking light 001

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Breaking Light Poetry Magazine Number 1: August 2010 Editor: Phillip A. Ellis

Table of Contents

Elf-Shot L. S. Fisher 3VB Slab, Australia Day L. S. Fisher 4Lingering Khe Iem 5Open-Air Market Khe Iem 6Reflecting Khe Iem 7California Summer Michael Lee Johnson 8Hookers on Archer Avenue Michael Lee Johnson 9Indolent Sun Michael Lee Johnson 10

All works are copyright by their respective creators, 2010; the arrangement of this collection iscopyright by Phillip A. Ellis, 2010.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works2.5 Australia License <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.5/au/>.



Elf-Shot

Deep in my heart,I am weary and worn away,as is light by the end of day

longing to part

from skies. From the start,I am weary and worn away,nigh in hue unto grey,

and deep in me I smart.

Deep in me I pain,I have felt sorrow dart

and strike me todaydeep in my heart.

L. S. Fisher

3



VB Slab, Australia Day

Another day of sun and surf, and freedomfrom work in the burningair, our cares as liberatedas the glorious west

from the baking sun's predecessor--night--so we crack another slab of green-skinned

bitters that bite at our knees, barely touching the sides(or so we joke, each to each)as we swallow thirstily,

beside the seaside's shimmering beach of glorious golden sand,the land a green and goldglory that makes hearts swollen.

L. S. Fisher

4



Lingering

pour out breathsand sit stretched

into a place empty-handed bend

back motionless as such until a dropof afternoon bell dissolves the self and objectsthat are created lie silent as in the past beingcovered up by the lattice wings of prayers

pacing on the face of the earth and acknowledging a call

lingering at the head of the whirlpool Khe Iem

5



Open-Air Market

dustydisorderly, sunny and windy

breaths of days madly singing

listeningeliminating everything

fluttering, fluttering birds fly about

beware of twilightclosing the door

Khe Iem

6



California Summer

Coastal warm breezeoff Santa Monica, Californiathe sun turns saltshaker upside down

and it rains white smog, humid mist. No thunder, no lightening,nothing else to doexcept sashayforward into liquidand swiminto eternal dayslike this.

Michael Lee Johnson

8



Hookers on Archer Avenue

Late evening, early morning,I search the night for whores,young and bloody with desires.The night streets are silent streets

accept for the hookers and the Johns.One wants the pushing of groinsthe other green eyes in dollar billsare sacred treasures-the snatch of the wallet, a consecrated craft.Both hit the streets quicklysatisfy the needs quicklyfinish in different directions quickly.I’m an old buck now rich with memoriesmore than movement, talking the trash,taking the porn pictures,

peeking Tom expert with a naked eye,snooping around department storecorners, and dumpy old alleyways.My hair is gray, my teeth eroding,my thoughts leaning toward prayer A.M. Catholic mass,finishing off the early morningwith a lethargic walk to pick up my social security check-comforts my needs.

Michael Lee Johnson

9



Indolent Sun

In early Marchan indolent sun

persists in tossingvolunteer rays of

soft flickering sun silk through dark desolatewillow tree branches-melting remnantsof snow diamond crystalsfrom weathered wooden plankson my balcony.I’m starting to think lifeis an adjective exaggerated

by the sway of seasons.It’s normal feeding time.Below two floorswild Canadian geesewait impatientlyfor the tossing of morning feed;the silent sound they hear─ no dropping of the seed.

Michael Lee Johnson

10

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