person Simon Henry Stein

Simon Henry Stein is a writer and composer whose work has recently appeared in or is forthcoming from Always Crashing, Electric Lit, and XRAY.


Five Fragments from Pale Calendar


the rules unravel

some old vermillion or burnt curtain


I was a light-tongued fortuneteller who would not

bleed as planned


by the throat

by the throat

now is the time for all young men



are there still trees there, and meaning

not subject to spin


this is not the right concrete, and not stolen


come home, all is forgiven, in the hills

too few enemies to gather a light



I always was awake is what you

could have presented as an explanation

or a gift


condensed to a hot white point

nothing is parallel or straight

any other embrace or salutation

all the forever


now all of the nights have names

some of them are named after you



news reports from the unstudied distance, sentence

burning off like hazard

(vs. photogenic) kind of fog


not that childhood was newly furnished


mirrors glued face-down to the hardwood floor

and dancing

dancing is how minor ghosts lose their way



some grim thespian at the other end

of that pointed finger


some kind of useful tunnel including math

there was dust, circuitry, waste, blustering

                          I used to believe in an abstract

                          forever / storms come late or not at all


slow does not mean quiet


gathering in means promising to be alive


2 thoughts on “person Simon Henry Stein

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