Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art
Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art
Columbia: A Journal of Literature and Art
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This content downloaded from 132.77.150.148 on Wed, 23 Mar 2016 02:33:18 UTC
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Telekinesis
by Melissa Kwasny
says to the visitor named green after the unseasonably dry and
brown winter.) Phalanx after phalanx, the snow geese rise from
the lake's sheen, then disappear as they hit the surface. The
shadows under the hills each proclaiming I am hill. Relax. The
land will greet each of us. The head will lift only so high. I am
worried for you, my friend, who are not as happy as me. Your
symptoms I can feel in the distance. How you stood in my yard
long past the time I had gone to bed, looking up at the stars,
which made you dizzy. The sky is further away than you think, is it
not, mamai the son asks near the end of Beckett's novel, and the
mother answers, devastatingly, no. It is precisely as far away as it
appears to be.
TELEKINESIS 1
This content downloaded from 132.77.150.148 on Wed, 23 Mar 2016 02:33:18 UTC
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions