Issue No. 16, Spring 2016

Loon. Or

Wing-lurker. Or
carbuncle of
shadow & blood
ruby. Holder
of the hangdog
eyeball. Or barbed wire
gumbo, gunnysack of
buckshot sinking
in a lake. Minutes.

Empty. Minutes.
Horrible full of nothing.
Necks full of break.
Or stern starched
collars. Or warning
song. Or memorial
bell. Ghost howl. Wings—
a shroud draped
over the damned. Or
fingers puppeteering
wraiths on the sky—

mirror, the lake. Loon
territory. Or lips
the ground purses
to kiss the sky.
All is loon
territory. Or a lure
for every fish
and a hook behind it.

Wraiths feast where they will.


Gahl Liberzon is a recent graduate of the University of Michigan’s Residential College and School of Education, where he studied Creative Writing & Literature and Secondary English Education, respectively. A native of Ann Arbor, Gahl was a two-time member of the University of Michigan Poetry Slam team, a four-time coach for the Ann Arbor Youth Slam team, and a three-time Hopwood award winner. In his spare time, he enjoys singing, beatboxing, filmmaking, dialogue, dance, fighting arts, dance-fighting arts, photography, and impatiently fiddling with his tie. He plans to teach high school English.