Fantasia

By DYLAN CARPENTER  

To win you back, I wrote in vain
Of a place only the two of us know.

Where snow when it snowed wasn’t snow.
Where rain when it rained wasn’t rain.

That was the world.
That was the place
Where we lived—

But ordinary things,
When they fell from our hands, made noise

And stars thrown from their equipoise
Burned through their naive wings.

 

[Purchase Issue 31 here.] 

 

Dylan Carpenter’s poems appear in The Hudson Review, The Iowa Review, Lana Turner, and Poetry Northwest, among other journals. He is a lecturer at the University of Maryland, College Park, and lives in Baltimore.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Fantasia

Related Posts

The Wall Climbers

AMAYA RANATUNGE
Back home, the salt arrives before the sea. It rides on the evening wind, settles in your pores, and clings to the stone walls of the fort. On some evenings, when the waves are rough enough, the salt-bitter perfume of the sea accompanies a loud orchestra

Book cover of The Fifth Year by Marlen Haushofer

Review: The Fifth Year by Marlen Haushofer

BRIANNA BEEHLER
When I was a child, I was afraid to go upstairs by myself at my grandparents’ house. At the top of the stairs was a print of Pablo Picasso’s 1937 painting, Weeping Woman’s Head with Handkerchief III, and the sight of the woman’s tears found their way into my dreams at night.

dark rock formation

Chupacabra

RODRIGO URQUIOLA FLORES
We are memory and to remember is to search the intricate silence of the images left behind. But we are also animals with a voice, and the voice gets bored of speaking alone and so becomes the game and the game becomes the celebration – joy as celebration of victory