Hot Metal Bridge

Current Issue : Number Twenty-Five



Why wouldn’t I pry open every vanishing point like a facial expression set to astonish in hopes of showing how many helices it takes to make a point, upon closer inspection? The end of this sentence detailing the obtuse landing of all the raw materials make up a bird is already an ellipsis. You just can’t see it. The middle of this sentence barely doesn’t align the word dove with dove by insisting a wing is so much with a candle’s votive waxing white. You just refuse the infusion of the irreal, the either, the image there behind the ether using the ether to burn down into brilliance. This is the opposite of some sort of capability. Either I’m talking too much in circles or we’re burning the candle at both ends, hoping to meet somewhere in the middle. At this point, when I look up the word ether in the encyclopedia all it does is disappear.


Jake Syersak is currently enrolled as an M.F.A. candidate at the University of Arizona, and his poems have most recently appeared or are forthcoming in Timber, DIAGRAM, Coconut, and Conjunctions. Syersak’s chapbook, Notes to Wed No Toward, was recently published by Plan B Press.