Periferias do Grande Exterior
Intermezzi Americani
1.
A hole in text to reach meaning, who wants?
A hole in meaning to reach text, who wants?
There’s ship horns and growls of hellhounds here
Weighing down your chest like lead through water.
Name the neutral happiness of sounds waves
The centrifugal force of night dwindling.
Flame in a bowl, red wax, a blood-like pool
Grave this hour, this rum; window, no one there.
But you’d better summarize its history
As the cups tip to tongue’s bedevilment.
August the sixteenth, gold stars, staring back
Last call, straight up, the man wants “real convo”
Two headlights, blinding, means your ride is here
Tonight, before the empire’s final bow.
2.
Do state cams care if your interest is piqued?
The whole range of phenomenon is scanned.
Levity’s––born from gravity, it’s said
And sonnets give some the willies, power.
I’ll meet you and you and you there, repeat
On the curbside below the marquee lights.
A rip in text to feel meaning, who needs?
A tear through meaning to feel text, who needs?
Once upon a time, open cargo bays
M-1 assault vehicles, strapped in, locked.
They meant the clandestine get up and speak
Re-moralizing lost purpose, these scribes
Weighing down your chest like lead through water.
Unmask the words “water” “willies” “power”.
Hush Now (Speak)
Did they take your voice away? Sounds like it
From what you say, and yet, someone’s speaking
Something not totally your you, per say
Maybe partially so, or not at all
Perhaps a not-you is staking the claim
“They’re taking my voice away”, just like that
And what if that not-you is itself claimed?
That is, some voice-less voice voicing a voice
“Your voice has changed, mijo, it sounds so hoarse
Me? I guess I’m just moving along here
Good to hear you though, listen, take good care”
And so, like putting down a receiver
(Y’all can wiki that, the size, weight, and look)
The buzz of silence ends, becomes a voice
Port of Entry
He knows he can be boorish. He gets frustrated, generally.
Like this morning, he wants cranes at ports of entry
to speak to him. Not every crane, actually
but that light blue one, shrouded in fog, craning
over and up, and around
Jolly crane, somber crane
Serious crane, care-free crane
“What’s it like to be a crane?”
the crazy poet asks
In Baltimore, in Charleston
Mobile, Galveston
Cargo-heart
bundled at the waterfront hole
bantering, pairing it all down
Green cranes, gray cranes
Orange cranes, yellow cranes
Now you see’em (ha ha) now you don’t
Now you hear’em (ho ho) now you don’t
Now you feel’em (hee hee) now you don’t
Cargo-heart
Exodus. Wandering. Arriving.
Haggling. Raising the Golden Mug.
In Newark, in New Orleans
Long Beach, Vancouver
Now you meet’em (uh huh), now you don’t
Now you know’em (uh oh), now you don’t
Now you join’em (ooh, ooh), now you don’t
And what if that reticent crane
were pink
in the bright sun
whispering dirt
a decommissioned crane, say
for gravitas
or enlightenment
or plain fun
is a poet and essayist based in New Orleans. He is the author of ten books of poetry, including newest book, The Charm & The Dread (Fence Books, 2022). He has appeared in over 20 anthologies, including Best American Poetry and Best American Experimental Poetry (BAX).