POETRY
“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
I slumped in front of a massive desk, a passive patient corroded with failure and dread.
It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.
we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts
Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.
my love is a glass shard, a knife made of madness and moonlight,
and there are already way too many fragments in this house
Any still figure at mid-late evening, when the long shadows make even crumbs appear arranged like furniture.
Even as the sun warms the concrete
the long nights’ sensual cold lingers in my clothes.
The poetry of Brian S. Ellis unravels, inverts, investigates, and complicates. His poems are radical koans and invitations to forego common narratives.
The two of us toast to a man we both love, to whatever degree, clink our glasses and laugh…
I imagine that undressing a color, though, would be so much like peeling a memory away from the grey and the white matter of your brain.
