Existential departure that stretches time
leaves on Track 29. Steel wheels glare
as the train glares, wheels grinding hourglass sand
in a knife-gleam. Passing glass-clear high-rises.
Only thing clear about glass is its surface.
We don’t see cracks underneath until breaking,
like how a moment can bend or break us.
How strongly tempered, glass or metal
a person becomes—rail, line of track, glass rod.
Molecules that can shatter upon impact—
the life a train’s impact can twist and shatter,
grind and stretch in view of passengers’ windows—
steel wrung into ribbons, gems of scattered glass.
An existential stretch of time’s departure.
is a Los Angeles-based writer and photographer with an MFA from California State
University, Long Beach. His work has appeared in San Pedro Poetry Review,
Synkroniciti, West Texas Literary Review, Gleam: Journal of the Cadralor,
MacQueen’s Quinterly, and other publications. His second poetry chapbook,
Beneath a Glazed Shimmer, won the 2019 Clockwise Chapbook Prize and was
published in February 2021 by Tebor Bach.
Le Grand Matin by Jonathan Yungkans, a Finalist in
MacQ’s Triple-Q Writing Challenge (Issue 11, January 2022)
La Porte by Yungkans in MacQ’s special
Christmas Eve issue (10X, December 2021)
Two Duplex Poems, plus author’s notes on the poems and on
the form, by Yungkans in Issue 10 of MacQ (October 2021)
Lawful and Proper, poem in Rise Up Review (Fall 2020)
Cadralor in the Key of F-Sharp as It Cuts into My Spine, in
the inaugural issue of Gleam (Fall 2020)
I’d Love to Cook Like Hannibal Lecter [video], read
by the poet at an event sponsored by Moon Tide Press (10 October 2019) celebrating
the anthology Dark Ink: A Poetry Anthology Inspired by Horror
⚡ Saving the Patient, poem in The Voices Project
(18 January 2018)