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As bacteria, as ammonia and carbon renderings on Time,
as blurred lines of motion My arms are eddys of God,
The carcinogenic triggers of rhyme
and Face, protoconch illness unscraped
and uncleaned from Him, oblivious  we
See the universe reaching mathematically, tonsil and tongue,
meat and teeth, eyes filled with sea life; blood red with infection,
Time-spoiled protozoa dissecting the flesh of galaxies, stars,
With inflection.
I believe in the cathedral, in its bow to the heavens,
Its flying buttresses capturing ***** air for delicious breath
Of structures of life, constellations and nautilus septs
The wind moves upward rapidly
5 to -13 degrees
Super cooling clouds to ice
Igniting lightining and my lungs,
Alive
Carl Velasco Nov 2018
I lost track of time
& fell short of a lot,
like I fell short of
a body that could be
happy by itself.
& I fell short of basketball,
calisthenics, boyhood. Where
growth should be was misshapenness;
where rapid should be was idle;
where scrutiny should be
was massacre.

& I was terrifically sad
yet deemed not officially depressed,
though in front of the mirror I would
see bathed in motor oil the reflection
of my *******, which is made of
calfskin and bruise. I also tried
various other things, like
licking my armpits, talking
to a tree, snorting
ammonia off public urinals;
every sample of grime I tried
to touch. Maybe just
to see if cleanse was a finite
thing, and if I was nearing
the end of my supply.

& I fell short of buzz cuts
and *******. Also, fighting
after school and legitimate
swagger from a legitimate
boy.
I looked too long
at differently colored lights
and stared too little at
women I was meant to
impregnate by some order
of prophecy — or the privilege
of *****. I trimmed
my nails each week and
waited for my beard to
grow. I didn’t own
any robes, and I didn’t
drink alcohol. I also
trusted too much and
ended up on the last
waves of a beautiful song,
jumping at the right
moment before siren
becomes pause.

& I fell short of bones,
breath, and humanly powers
of affection, and I waited
for someone to explain how
everything worked because
the gospels put the world
in a jar and threw
them between fire and cold
air. I would step inside
churches prepared to listen,
then at the pew I would
get lost in the tar pit
of my subconscious.

& I fell short of being
a son, a brother, a friend,
an avid decipherer of
the poetry that lands on
my palms and eats itself
if I don’t eat it first.

& I fell short of saving
the world every chance I got.

& I fell short of distinguishing
love from pity.

& I fell short of the
day a promise was supposed
to unfold
in the brink of disaster;
and it just so happens
I was asleep when miracles
occurred under my blanket,
and so to me healing
was just waking up to
an alarm clock.

& I fell short of days
I was to remain
in place as the planet
anchored itself to
the rungs of my rib
and flattened like a
gum under my command.
I was my own God, my own
whisperer of lies. I tried
to see beauty with
these eyes.

Each day, syrup.
Each day, sedation.
Each day, escaping lament.
Distortion was the
language I fell into
and bounced on.

& I fell short of
this poem, which I had intended
to make perfect sense.
Maybe to some of you
it will.
Nov 29, 2018
On the closed Nuestra Señora del Perpetuo Socorro Parish Manila
Midnight
As bacteria, as ammonia and carbon renderings on Time,
as blurred lines of motion My arms are eddys of God,
The carcinogenic triggers of rhyme
and Face, protoconch illness unscraped
and uncleaned from Him, oblivious  we
See the universe reaching mathematically, tonsil and tongue,
meat and teeth, eyes filled with sea life; blood red with infection,
Time-spoiled protozoa dissecting the flesh of galaxies, stars,
With inflection.
I believe in the cathedral, in its bow to the heavens,
Its flying buttresses capturing ***** air for delicious breath
Of structures of life, constellations and nautilus septs
The wind moves upward rapidly
5 to -13 degrees
Super cooling clouds to ice
Igniting lightining and my lungs,
Alive
Zizaloom Oct 2018
Desire crept in the crease of my kidneys
Drowning in ***** and ammonia
I stank and still stink
Saw what could not be unseen
Covered by dirt, grit and grime
Squalid sewage
You dived in too
Head first
Or pretended to
And I saw water gleaming
And temper rising
And fever swelling, blistering, popping
Around the clock
You did not stop
And kept fidgeting and quivering
Singing and facing
Facts and faces
That were supposed to be stood up to
Big polished eye *****
And a neck three feet long
Watch than *******
The huge humongous pomegranate
A billion bubbly juicy lives
******* ******* the treasure fruit
Pearly pimples
Rolling earls
Sea shell pearls
One after the other
Cabbage carnage
Leaf under over inside leaf
What was left
A sack of straw
A mud-colored potato
And two carcasses made of sticks
Painted in cheap pink lipstick

— The End —