c o n v e r g e n c e:
an online journal of poetry & art


HANDS by Christian DeLaO

HANDS by Christian DeLaO

by James Benton

My joker to your ace of spades, behold:
the pea beneath the walnut shell.
Your three-of-hearts
blossoms into roses and
this cane becomes a living snake.
Skeptic give me your hand;
I will place your missing
childhood back within your reach.
Believer take my gift.

Now taste as grass music blows across
this turn of cards. Touch the pluck of coinage
from this curled bug. Your pocket glass ignites
a cone of sunlight from a warm horizon waning
to an untied knot, a silk scarf dancing
to applause, all promises this time kept
           the way I vanish after
making transparency opaque
in the bolt of sudden doves,
in the gravity of smoke,
I see it now, in your unflinching
gaze, the way your wonder
vanishes and reappears for me
before our very eyes.

MIRRORED ALTAR installation art by Terre Busse Reflection Photo by Christian DeLaO

MIRRORED ALTAR Installation Art by Terre Busse
Reflection Photo by Christian DeLaO

by Oliver Rice

Taylor, our jesting guru, revery's fool,
knowing we may sleep late on a Saturday,
delays his arrival until second coffee time,
bearing pastries and a harried look,
declaring that he was up until three,
shivering on his porch,
attempting to contact the night spirits.

Halloo, he declares he emitted
into the stealthy hush.
Halloo. Are you there?
What do you know that we do not?

Listen to our ironies.
We wish to take original sin into outer space.
We are inhabited by tales of outlaws.
Dubious myths cruise our freeways.

Our judgments vacillate.
Our facts are never all in.

What do you know that we do not?

Well, I say, sensing my cue,
what did they answer?

One, he says, become a Buddhist.
And two, when in doubt,
always choose a chocolate-covered,
coconut-sprinkled Danish.

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