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Outage

By Alvin Wong
the room empties
air conditioning dies out
without stirrings, the vast floor’s pool
eats at flattened walls
the ambient hums gone, ears begin to fall
a scream of elongated chimes
heard from the lakes of a hose
rinsing down alleyways, dampened road
if tunnels can act as containers
for dislocated voices, mended by passing cars
and adverts for a common background
now we’ve shed our past at airports
the glass doors permit new identities
the concrete expressways soar to new life
thinking of the radios that clicked at the knob’s turn
the needle slides to a different station
simple machines from a grade school science unit
toy dump trucks demonstrate gravity
how the fingers stay to the side, a simple touch
our conversations where we were adrift between replies
to prolong an answer, will it sustain
or be an epithet
between half remembered faces
lost after a coffee
a rain drop creates a space that ripples
but it was during a power outage
I ran outside to see the painted outlines of homes
where I wondered if the still-lit roads
shattered the earth with electricity
and we can see the whole of half-flickered memories


Spacetime at the Beach

By Alvin Wong
have you seen cerulean
when oceans are clear at shore
aquariums of fish in pet store caverns
blue lights and orange scales
has gold now become particles
then solids kept behind a vault
for when we change states,
will it be loam as new soil
new life when we feared barren planets
craters without heat
and we hope that in new air
gravity slows our fall
through the concrete
when our feet land on the surface
could we go on past rock
past the mountain where we place ourselves
to reach an afterlife, reserved in the sky
outside of our hands
finding luminescent creatures with tendrils
the tiled floor of a fountain wavers

Enjoy Your Stay

By Alvin Wong
at an eighth-floor balcony
I look down thinking
if I fall down eight stories
I would be flat
as those small yards, ripped gazebo
under our temporary flight on this balcony
only then could I sway
between the hardwood floors
bent grass and leaves
patch the walling
the mats on the terrace like hardened soil
the sounds of airplanes
touch the coast
music weighs on a stereo
almost thinking of another life
where we were meant to live
in temporary experiences

Alvin Wong is a fifth-year Theatre Studies student at York University, minoring in Creative Writing with a certificate in Urban Studies. He is the senior editor of Inspiritus Press, where he also leads the Crossroads Literary Festival on his campus. He has been published in Half A Grapefruit Magazine.
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