John Destalo

John Destalo Sep 2020

she paints

fingers as
needles

penetrating
points

her lips
can’t reach

she knows
where I

buried my
true self

but she
keeps it

to herself
and her

paintings
of me

John Destalo Sep 2020

sweet tangerine

smaller than
an orange

I lifted her
and saw her

bruises and scars

she was not
perfect

but I took her
home anyway

she was
so sweet

John Destalo Sep 2020

a fall day

I tried to
catch a leaf

as it fell
floating

in the coolness
I always

wanted to be
changing

directions
adapting

to the push
and the pull

always in
the perfect

position to
land so easily

John Destalo Sep 2020

crystal

the first girl
was a mystic

a gust of wind
a thunder clap

her hair was black
her heart was open

she asked me
to religion

we crossed
our arms

and prayed
to our past

the mothers and
fathers of our

fathers and mothers

asking forgiveness
for what was to come

John Destalo Sep 2020

a cold night

after we expel
all the words

silence settles nothing

leftover feelings
are piranhas

each one too small
to matter

but together they
devour all that matters

last night

there was not
enough blankets

you didn’t take them
I just felt colder

than usual

John Destalo Sep 2020

John Lennon, Jack White and many others

when I meet
a mind

I want to enter
there is a

mystery
I detect

a labyrinth
a laboratory

experimenting
sensorially

doesn’t matter
the sense

it is all
a natural

explosion
a big bang

ushering in
a new universe

John Destalo Sep 2020

blue or red

yes she said
I know

sometimes
I like to

bury myself
in blue

is this a deal
breaker

for you
I hope not

I hope you
understand

I need these
blue days

so I

don’t cover
myself in

red