BODY OF WATER: Coney Island
Perhaps this chain of events amounts to nothing
more than a malfunction: one million light bulbs
bursting in succession, a fire spreading rapidly
through the landscape of lath buildings.
In the avenues, one-armed men search
for phantom limbs & an actress covered in ash
rows her gondola across the boardwalk. Nearby,
a lion rushes through throngs of bystanders
but kills only a single cop.
I move through
the crowds with a piece of marquee lodged
in my ear. In the distance, a train derails
from its tracks: no passengers, no survivors—
another accident reaching its logical conclusion,
another carnival burning slowly into the sea.
Conley Lowrance began writing poetry after an aborted career in punk rock. His interest in lyrics and subculture literature eventually led him to the University of Virginia’s poetry writing program where he received his BA. His poems been published by Tupelo Press, The Glasgow Review of Books, Gadfly, Columbia University’s Catch and Release, and Counterexample Poetics. Currently, he is exploring the intersection of Surrealist poetry and detective fiction and working at Columbia University’s Heyman Center for the Humanities. Follow him @ConleyLowrance.