Issue 11 – Winter 2006 – Morgan Lucas Schuldt

Morgan Lucas Shculdt


Anachronistically Yrs

Mine say mine to say something.
Or sleepstow this mention between us.

How over yestoyears description dies
& gropes are throes are touchlines put

to trace as some sweigh-bridge.
Sway–the body’s mixplaced satisflictions

for which all doing is banquet.
The craved of thus as done;

the hands of soothes come true.
Love this anachronistically yrs

tipped to lips as sipped 
is hail to one’s heat, & means

being. Means 
makes warm sheets

‘twixt which are still
wantknots, ah vowels,  
rives letter-built between which
between which we bade un-

––be knownst!



Version’s Verge

If nothing I do does & nothing I am say,
whatever you will in the inter-uhmm,
mercies to furies want to be enough
& fall short, furies to mercies.
So our loudship, readypresent, masses
where love is night-&-a-half remembered
& folded in, de-realized as though
a name had been called,
folded again into this kisshand.
Do we care to call it a bless?
To have what back?
Carry forward.  Portion this mortal
dabble, this should-hurry of the waist.
Fall from the wartower, your highsleep.
Pretend to be habited.  As the grateful,
take your body & go.  
Or mine, 
            mindful of our matters made.




After Cy Twombly


                                                                                   Allover at and elsewhere throughout,

                                                         restinguished loop-spoof,         doodle. 


                               Ambigracefull smudge. 


                    So many                                           solittle


                   Sketch-abide       skin-elide      sin-aside   


                              Smeary sometime sprangflowers.                           Hierantic tracery

                                                                 & abc-alloons.

                                                                              To this anyheld here––

                                                                                                                   anI’mism     gone ga-



Variations from Inside an Hour Glass

Am I soft sift?
Am . . . fists of it?
If I fast most––
atoms’ tiffs? I
omit fasts, if

a moist stiff;
if’s fast omit,
its fit of am
is fast motif.
I am soft sift.



Morgan Lucas Schuldt is the author of Verge (Parlor Press: Free Verse Editions, forthcoming fall, 2007) and Otherhow (Kitchen Press, forthcoming spring, 2007), a chapbook.  His work has appeared most recently in VerseLITDiagramTypo and Shampoo.  Currently Morgan studies at the University of Arizona where he edits CUE: A Journal of Prose Poetry.