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Confessional Poem
this worldsorryremains or humanitysun chops through bowlingthe six forty essential as a fax machinehere’s some good advicedemand luxembourg in the alley who knows his motivation?you simply hold all availablehands outward, palms up; six whistlesdoddering thrutropical depression her brunette historystoleof friendship as a friend places his twistederasedbottle durango — no one owning anything of a sugar…
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Acusar al Presidente
yes 10:13 in hackensack and i am wonderingwhy on earth is my skin so skinny when all the prayers say i should be greasymy benedictions should be known widelyhow many people are even in this bolted down town anyway if i stop with all the bolas de acerocerveza and el gran poeta contemporáneo maybe i’ll…
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Simile on the Morning
cherry wave moves fastconsumes gas spark oxygen ignites momentary true tearsapartasphalt gives it all away for pennies on the dollar corpseof oak wave of pattern-makinggone now so maybeaerated biomassbound to steel screws i once loved as a lecturewell cared forwhite curator of white curators my hands in my filial head translationconcrete as total aesthetic lossas…
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Dear Oblivion
i’vestubbed my tone againagainst the edgeof some other universeunder the weeklyfarmers marketnear the free whiskeysamples retireddentist whosummers in santamonica whoexplains volatilizationcharcoalfilters in his coronavirusmaskthe perfect giftfor clark i’vetaken off againaround plutoin the byzantineeyes of mannothing to dowife away i’veglanced out againfrom my crashingself sea i’venamed myself againspoiled oilspilled spinningtop approachesedge gravityangel’s sharebitter shipgasping heirto a…
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Dear Oblivion
So much light, dear oblivion, night after night; I offered up my body. You refused. I drank. Begged, really. Said my dreams, you don’t belong here. Some countable mornings ahead, crouched in the internet’s dark corners, hands reaching into prosaic brightness, not to gather, but offer: News spreads of a virgin conception. And so much…
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Dear Oblivion
Prayer peels soul from body. Robin-eyed memory of never known. The scent of winter jasmine, he writes. I ascent, with neither knowledge nor trace experience. Mouth crawls with the acid taste of spider webs. Begging, really. Dear Oblivion, I continue asking the drain — conduit from, passive voice, channel away — to do the hard…
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Hackensack Rally to Stop Police Brutality and Racist Violence #blacklivesmatter
All photos copyright Joe Gerace, 2020 (please email for usage permission) Hundreds gathered on a sweltering June afternoon in Hackensack, NJ, to call for an end to police brutality against people of color in the wake of the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and countless others. Organizers provided a platform for members of the…
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Dear Oblivion
dear oblivioni hear you shredding bonein the goldenplacesalivatingsomewhereunknowablea mangrillsmeata childscreams what i mean to sayis this, dear oblivion:i rememberthe littoral darknessof the rising afternoonthe light never having beenenough dear oblivioni hear youcrawling away
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Mating and Cuddle Settings
I want to callspecific attentionto the matingand cuddlesettings,becausethey result ina nearlyperfectbreedingsituation.
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