MattReeck Poems







The Bird Sanctuary.  No gate barring birds, gate barring people.  (Access Eval.)


            Back-room far from the street-noise.  Covert operation against.


            Culvert, ditch, ravine—unsought-for locale.  To travel where


            the eyes of the panopticon don’t wander (fairy tale).  To indemnify. 


            Corner of the library only the perverse (seeker) would find.


            Intimate knowing.  Intrinsically (ironically) open—to follow


            another through a day, having renounced your prerogatives.


            Sitting in the car past dark in the parking lot of the gargantuan


            mall.  Beneath a street-lamp.  Reading.  Loosing time. 


            Losing opinion.  Next to the ground where you can see (after time)


            the toy theater:  ants woven into the grass, a beetle, a worm—


            terranean life.  Next to the wall and its Imaginary of White.


            I went into the fall forest, biked there from town, Saturday afternoon


            alone, lay down in the grassy bracken, slept.  A place—unbeholden.


            A mind—unbeholden.  (Fairy tale.)





Matt Reeck has published poetry and translations in a variety of magazines

and in three chapbooks, the last Midwinter (Fact-Simile Press).  His

poetry is in the current or upcoming issues of BOMB, Brooklyn Rail, Colorado

Review, Columbia Poetry Review, EOAGH, Fact-Simile, Juncture and The Swan's




Archived at





Copyright respective authors and Konundrum Engine