by rob mclennan

fr gwendolyn macewen

    when you know there are no bounds,
symbols etched in flesh the only record
    
   & what the first eye
                tends to forget,
images of the secular & the end
                    of a sword, as sand dunes
    
        rise
            & fall
        w/ the same regularity
            & precision
    
whether we are here
or not. the other eye
    
    tracing a line between the sky
& the singular moon, digits
                of stars across the body
                            of heaven,
bright tattoos. at the moment these things were written,
interpreting lines on sun-baked clay,
    calling
    
            i am here
            i am in this place
    
            now

An interview with rob mclennan appeared in The Danforth Review in March 2000.