2 POEMS BY BRIAN BROTARLO


5 BOMBINGS

How can this provoke anger,
severed like a doll's leg,
pieces of carcass the size of
bloody seeds?
Immediately after, the quiet
of early-morning sunrays,
a good radio station,
your favorite spot in the house--
that summer when all you did
was grow taller,
voices great and small,
urgent and poetic,
float on the rushing stream
of your mind's eye--
that source of purity
tears can only begin to describe--
just as Buddha prescribed.

p.s.
I have this option
on our family land--
perhaps I'll buy half
a hectare and a buffalo,
turn brown and settle down.
 
 

Trial Samplings
(a life in verse)

As the days drag on...

Over the phone, she says
it was just a manifestation.
I should appreciate her concern.
I'm not interested in that, I say to her.
What I want is materiality.

My ambiguous need for satisfaction.
She's the target.
The butt-end of long crises
and ingrown pessimism.

To my credit or discredit
I still refuse the help of private counsel.
You see... and my voice heightens...
my hands are tied...
it's already very difficult...
we're going nowhere with all the technicalities...
unless you have anything to hide...
I need for you to give me a break...
if you don't give me a break,
we might as well...

She doesn't say it,
but her problem is
she thinks my intentions are prejudicial.

Of course, the motion to quash
had been unanimously denied.
Any fool can understand the hint.
Now, I'm waiting the ruling on my
motion for reconsideration.
Or was it her motion?

Brian is 25, a Freelance writer (writes copies online) with  published stories and poems in the Graphic and Free Press.
 
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