PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Kei Millerthe Fat Black Woman
In Praise of the Fat Black Woman & Volume

(PN Review 241)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Next Issue John McAuliffe poems and conversation Charles Dobzynski translated by Marilyn Hacker Maya C. Popa in conversation with Caroline Bird Richard Gwyn With Lowry in Cuernavaca Jane Draycott Four Poems
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
Monthly Carcanet Books
PN Review Blog

This poem is taken from PN Review 140, Volume 27 Number 6, July - August 2001.

Mr Multitude Robert Minhinnick


    I'm in the thicket:
held fast. But soon I'll ease out of the thorns,
freeing my hair, my sleeves.
Soon with the ocean on my left
I'll walk into the town.

                John,
under its hood the computer waits
and the e mails are stacking up
and the net widening with every breath.

But there's nothing new, you'd say,
everything a flashback to something else,
        all that acid you dropped at SFU
still flaring, old sites miraculously come to life,
more ghosts than islands in Vancouver Sound,
for hand in hand the dead and the living will walk forever
        through the mind's marriage.

        But now
eight hours adrift
as another dark grows deep
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image