ABOUT

CONTENTS

EDITORIAL

ARCHIVE

LAGNIAPPE

MAST

SUBMISSIONS

Two Poems
by Ashley VanDoorn


Cabinet of Curiosities

Only the owner, whose representative wrote to merchants
from all places: "especially the Virgin & Bermude &
Newfoundland, that when you Into those parts, you will furnish His
Grace with All sorts of Shining Stones or Any Strange Shapes, River
horses head the Biggest that can be gotten, Elephants head
     with the teeth In it
     very large, with All
     their strange Horns & sorts
     of Birds Skins Beaks Legs
     feathers & fishes
skins Rare or Not known & of those parts the Greatest shellfishes shells of Great flying
fishes & sucking fishes, Serpents and snakes Skins & especially that sort that
hath a Comb on his head Like a Cock, with what else strange of their habits weapons &
Instruments of Ivory Long flutes & fruits Dried As their tree Beans Little Red or
Black In their Cods with what flower & seed Can be Gotten the flowers Laid Between

paper leaves In a Book Dried..." can unlock progressively the
ebony half of four sets of external doors which fold out
vertically and the two cloaked in semi-precious stones which fan
horizontally into frames to form additional latched
showcases, embellished with oak, agate, onyx, enamel,
     miniature portraits
     that taken down and
     turned upside down turn
     into grinning skulls.
     "How divine," fanning
myself, "to first enter the estate, enter the frontispiece, enter the chamber
depicted on the overleaf, enter the cabinet, enter the drawer, enter
the box, enter, finally, the object held out for inspection¡ " Now-exposed do
these recesses vault and tier you? On the margins of the charted are you contained,
extended? On the inner surface of the upper door, a mirror doubles red

jasper plaques and the crashing waves marked on marble facing it.
In the distorting mirror of one right side door, a lady
looks like she thinks, but does not say, every surface studded
precious overflows the state of self which cannot be displayed.
In his journal, observe her suitor stock the list larger, his
     impression threshold
     rising with each new
     exhibit, though he
     mutters instead, "Most
     marvelous...", while
the owner contrives a myth for the "bird of paradise" which arrived with no feet
or tail, not due to manner of transport, but because condemned to fly through its feast
of dew until death. It can only be captured when it drills its beak into a
tree to rest, which is why it also lost its head. If exhausted enough to see
how the lower door's backside reflection lengthens the vista of the perspective

tunnel through the cabinet's center, and changes the angle
of chunks of ore into a hilltop fortress, you'll encounter,
with less effort, material made to matter, labor cleansed
of sweat. No toil is pointless. Isn't there expenditure
in extravagance? Study in delicacy? In endless
     etcetera you
     can overcome all
     this elected and
     arranged disarray.
     She: "Struck!" He: "Stunned!" Each
exception caught vying for more eye, concentration excluding too little for
inquiry. But divert your distraction back, for the most precious treasures must be
those the possessor has hidden behind this ghostly glass in velvet-lined cases,
reserved for antique and modern gems, Indian stabbing dagger, Indonesian
spiked helmet, Mexican abalone, Florentine stones, Roman coins, featherwork

from the Americas, Turkish weaponry, Flemish landscapes,
mummified ear of Egyptian bull, ivory filigreed
into wind-billowed sails, baroque pearl garlanded in gold
to resemble a jester, brittle shells curled and crimped, black
brain coral, concretization of thunder, unicorn horn—
     though I'm positive
     it was only a
     tusk, the gentleman
     wrote later. With hand
     over heart and mouth
ajar, the lady looks like what the crowd feels, but cannot think: every empty space
now seems a swarming horror— Our own homes unfurl here. At cornice level I
continue to remove display trays, reveal clocks, cameos, compasses, insects
trapped in amber, throwing knives, coconut cups, claw of a long-tailed monkey, silver
caskets for cosmetics, with latches that elude, votive hands, ostrich egg laid in

Dundalk, 1756, bog butter discovered in
Donegal, 1849, fragile porcelain bust, boy
with bow and arrow bronze, brick from Babylon. Do you fathom
the foundation's dismantling? In this order we dislocate.
He: flawless thong of human skin. She: sole of a small cloth shoe,
     where heart-shaped mirrors
     multiply five times
     a pair of eyes which
     cohere and divide
     toward more mutables.
Me: fruit pit, one side carved into a bearded man— tuning strings? Mending? The other
side elaborates a branch into a bear or boar or dog or donkey, hard to
tell: seems an ordinary pit, but the catalogue divulges its divergence,
sharpens singularity, while the proximity of other authorities
heightens the sensation of each item, unexchangeable, disappearing and

preserved in this fixed flux the finder guides you through to your own
wonder you transfer from spectacles to selves, variety
not being universal, though dissimilar objects, if
coveted in common, uncover this: hierarchy has
symmetry? Ranks of silk- or paper-lined drawers at the base
     contain cubby-holed
     fossils, beeswax, lice
     combs, magnifying
     lens, measuring stick,
     two-handled fork, time-
glass, polyhedral crystals, antidotes, aphrodisiacs, turtle carapace,
shaving kit, crucifix. What kind of natures answer to allotted slots? Along
the sides, shelves store interactive illusions: artificial fruit that fools, the lip
of a nautilus shell a pitcher with gilded silver, human bone heavier
than a human can hold, instrument used by the Jews in circumcision, a scourge

with which Charles V scourged himself, butterflies to pattern on
panels of silk, vials of reptiles shaken for angle,
chess board, Italian spinet with three scores, pickled wolf with one
detachable limb, skeleton replica posed in thought, globes
terrestrial and celestial, pocket telescope, pair
     of gloves I picked and
     found no slits, table
     service of silver
     and gold, canary
     sworn to hop from stick
to stick mechanically in its cage—"My automata are counterfeited so
expertly as to deceive, but it is right they have unfinished interiors,
unlike the automata of God, which must awe more." I muse. If furnishing can
finish, then his daughter's dollhouse might be the right design, for its halves hinge open
and anyone can enter this room up to her wrist, unlatch with no key but care

drawers no larger than a thumb, which hold even tinier
shells, ungraspable carvings, blank-faced coins, each side equally
unspendable, set of miniature manuscripts which require
magnification instead of multiplication, calling
for a greater gaze, the closer look that could reveal in the
     "real" cabinet's far
     left, barely discerned
     in alabaster,
     Moses parts the Red
     Sea, leads the captives
captivated to a world they must wander until no originals are
left to enter the land as promised as these "bizarre specimens, marvels of art,
clever machines." Perhaps anticipation is reward enough, but if you reach
underneath, you'll find an attached handle which opens a hollow that houses a
removable writing stand, where often he sits alone in reverie of his

revered, and this puts your face directly in front of a head
crowning the whole dissectible torso, a topknot swirl
of crystals and corals, out of which rises the amazed and
amalgamating mind, ship-like, a Seychelles nut shouldered
by Atlas and supporting crouched Venus, who stares into an
     imaginary
     distance, from where you
     are presented with
     a guestbook you must
     balance on your palm.



goodbye device

                             —› —› —›
            (blank or empty?)

knot shackled to spiral, loose ends looped
            mask
attempts to heal what keeps coming back around / up / down

            (should have killed you when I had the chance / choice)

as if I could exit twice what steps in for you the rest of life

always collapsing toward the middle

            the pointing dog deserves the bird but can't
            the fruit-picker deserves a bigger jar of juice but can't

you'd keep me tied till I could never
mistake what stunned who with which tongue

(not unshaped, not not in place, but too much like, too much there)

meticulousness and mess, a give and take that hisses with secrets
means what it feels like and only by its senses
says what it means to know

                                  of falling
                                  out
                                  of love
                                  with alignment
                                  your fingers unfolding inside
                                  cracked the secret familiar

blood-tipped star, code coated in something so funny I can't laugh (and do)

blasted into asking for a half-chance to choose
sow the choke or reap the gulp (all gap)
            unlatched your latchless
            hourglass

as if weak lungs breathe more light

my watching eye suddenly clocks, slows to stop

as if the preliminary image is summary

(you can read it backwards and it might matter more)

            the butcher doesn't call one cut that unravels the animal luck
            the leaves don't stutter bed though each is an island of sleeping

                                   digression an orphan
                                   an orphan repeated

as if falling

in love like October, then falling into

a glove filled with snow

            cut by inner diamonds           you turned thief generously

guess what I'll admit                         perhaps I am only pretending
omit what I resent                            to live alone

torn in more than halves                               perhaps

            quick strokes for a gesture stilled but               (stall)
            cramped pattern can't quit sketching but                       (compress)

derivative of the same

yesterday-spangled

universe (only nearly alone)

push 'begin' on the ravishing lean

             the hunter doesn't call the echoed shot haunt though it hides

your famous ravenous:
fatten on what feeds you then lead it to leave you

as if seeds organized around a core are part of the core
            apart from the core

you return or I draw you out inevitably
            on the periphery to see how what isn't quite is good
            and stolen
and hold my head (gone) in my hands