(A Quarterly International Peer-reviewed Refereed e-Journal
Devoted to English Language and Literature)
Gerard Sarnat is the author of four critically acclaimed collections- Homeless Chronicles from Abraham to Burning Man (2010), Disputes (2012), 17s (2014) and Melting The Ice King (2016). Sarnat is currently working on a possible new sequence tentatively titled, Prisoner Poetry. Gerard has been nominated for a 2016 Pushcart Prize. He can be contacted through his email- firstname.lastname@example.org.
1. Brushing the Stars
Shimmering winter back in Redondo,
frost shadow thawed, unmoored offshore,
I cloud walk on a pair of bouncy new sneakers.
As our sun emerges from the mist, it squints my eyes,
turns crystal into ocean turquoise twilight pink.
Below on the Esplanade trudges a family
whose young lead their matriarch’s Guatemalan
rainbow skirt and blouse. The ten-gallon mustachioed
silent screen patriarch tucks a pearl snap cowboy
shirt over the horizon of his jeans’ paunch.
Beauties in saris bloom like tide-pool moon gardens.
2. Do Not Disturb
— after William Carlos Williams
Perhaps Ter on a road
near the hospital,
his car would be drawn
to the curb. Bill Monroe’s
Heavy Traffic Ahead
on the radio,
fragments jotted in No. 2
pencil under a glowing
machine thick with swarms
of everywhere night
worn leather smell, so
much depends on little
red notebooks rummaged
among subway tokens
and tortilla chips, ink
in the blood, a stethoscope.
3. Rooster in the Night No. 2
The shallows in earnest, candles sputter,
burn molecules might fuel extra hours not to be.
Ears ring, cheeks turn pink
imagining my love, imagine me.
She chants the song of her soul these forty-nine days
I sit with the urn, cry stars into her ashen sky.
The valley of shadows disorders time
as I fumble prayer beads.
My thumbs sense a scuffle to take earthly leave,
hurtle away on cinnamon and blue bardo wings.
Funneled through dusk’s gray cocoon melee,
untethered, a radiant silk moth dawns past mourning’s crow.
4. Long ago
Long ago told by his father,
Seek the golden key that will unlock
the door to your soul,
the divine ruler kept predatory eyeteeth
in a rock jar in a monument
soon to be toppled by earthlings
who’ll settle up before dirt settles down
on the tottering despot.
5. And Forgive Me
I do while I do, everyone
we betrayed or did not,
because I -- I’m Dad’s son,
because I was born first,
because I just was.
As he left her side,
skittered into the labyrinth at dusk,
on the family’s behalf,
“Why would you take that path?”
which isn’t answered.