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Position and Drift

I was born in Denver in 1959. My three books of poems are Tactile Values (New Issues, 2000), A Bedroom Occupation: Love Elegies (Lumen Books, 2007), and Balance Sheets (Kingston University Press, 2022).

Newsletter · By Mark Scott · English · Official site

Indexed issues, last 90 days
9
Latest publication
Sep 28, 2026
Audience
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Earliest in this view
Jul 9, 2026

Latest issues

  1. Issue · Sep 28, 2026

    Another Bold Statement, or CTBS (opens the original)

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    Don’t call attention to yourself.Don’t call attention to yourself.Position and Drift is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

  2. Issue · Sep 26, 2026

    On “Reaching Out” (opens the original)

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    Where did “reaching out” come from?Cavepeople?In literature, Virgil’s “Tendebantque manus ripae ulterioris amore”? About that line, A. C. Bradley wrote:If I translate this “and were stretching forth their hands in longing for the further bank,” the charm of the original has fled. . . . Because I have changed the meaning of Virgil’s line. What that meaning is I cannot say. Virgil has said it. But I can see this much, that the translation conveys a far less vivid picture of the outstretched hands

  3. Issue · Sep 9, 2026

    In the Foreground (opens the original)

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    The dust that N. C. Wyeth cartooned descending on an Indian family in 1919 as a speechless cloud hadn’t settled by 1976, when Fritz Scholder lithographed his Indian on a red, dust-free plane of an exurban Paris that never existed.Nor has the dust of zero-hour settled on frames at the Joslyn Museum in 2009.Position and Drift is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.<form cla

  4. Issue · Aug 5, 2026

    More Efficient Touch (opens the original)

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    Me, in EnglandMy hair grows in the fields, grows colors, my eyes clap up thunder purple, fingers cow-crease onion skin, boots lamb-warm lie down in spare grass, warmth stealing on me as a pheasant’s breast, my butt round as a bridge duct, body thick as a silo. I go headlong into a newspaper’s noise and the slipping fucking wave-lick lipped-green tuft-cunt sea, young chin spreading gnarled bristle flat out on the razor blue foam sky. My flaccid third thumb whines for a roundhouse. Fall, when my s

  5. Issue · Jul 21, 2026

    Questions Open, Closed, and Ajar (2 of 2) (opens the original)

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    What can’t be correlated with?Why the difference between driving something and causing something?Are reference and reverence usually synonymous?Is my pattern of error, even, mine?How many of us haven’t so much “been through” something terrible as we’ve done something terrible, and are still in some sense implacable?Do we spend a seventh of our lives on each day of the

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