Knar Gavin
Winter 2025 | Poetry
Two Poems
YOO-HOO: sur-sous
forgive me my
notebooks flecked
w shitty little lv notes
to pauline oliveros
the earth hums 15 octaves below
middle C
surfaces resurface
~
a sound a wave
broken
even
over
you who
i lv
like what
the soil said
like the actual drink
bought from the vending machine
in, Lord, my seventeenth
hr of work
amongst plagiarist
young men
GRASS EATER
After “Bresson’s Movies”
I send him
a picture
of the pair over
Signal, just to be safe. In
it, a man
has a capybara
on a leash of grass
&, having
read my Creeley, I
assume they too are
trying to get back
to the castle, like any man
and horse alive.
It's a given
we're in love, but
none can mention what the castle is.
Not even on Signal, not even
under our breath, deep
ened with night.
We’re old now, & as
for the capybara, this one
is of great size.
An impossible magnitude,
a beautiful, hulking portent
of the gnawed future
that is come.
Knar (they/any) is a graduate of the Iowa Writers Workshop, and they recently completed their doctoral work at the University of Pennsylvania. A community defense organizer, Temple adjunct, and runner, Knar lives on unceded Lenni-Lenape lands in so-called Philadelphia. They are the author of Vela. (the Operating System, 2019) and recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Annulet, the Tiny Mag, Ballast, Etcetera, Diagram, River Styx, Notre Dame Review, Bat City Review, and Environmental History Now.