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Sergio Ortiz
Nightmares, Secrets, and Museums
Think of me as Dionysus, home, resting with a fetus in my left leg. Think of me as lasting less than a candle or a rock. This road we travel is a puff, a shake, an unexpected vibration on earth’s surface. It does not fancy us here. We barely have enough time to learn a few lessons when we’re gone. Grapes shrivel, leaves fade back to their sepia dwellings. Think of me as a wordless translation of a poem dwelling in the silent space all over this museum, like secrets in a secret language.
The Sides of a Mirror
There is no other choice than to remain secure in the cargo hold for what is stored in lower spaces of the ships we navigate is nothing other than the individual parts of what is ready to become the deconstruction of our anatomical filth. Heart and lung machines rot side by side sexual strings. This rubbish causes parsnip infection, a corrupt bitterness in our poisonous watercourse. This is what we gain from a peep. This, the sum of what we see before a fuller glimpse.
Poetry,
the petal moored to a glace, as if its mysterious shape opened out of its body to lean against the smile of old drifter waiting for some kind of absolution upon the church’s steps. The tourist does not move, his eyes inspect his own tanned shoulders, then he notices a plastic bag to the right ofthe unassisted, a well kept treasure, the intimacy of a home, with suspicion.
Ortiz has a B.A. in English literature from Inter-American University, and a M.A. in philosophy from World University. His poetry has appeared in over 200 online and print journals He has been recently published, or his poems are forthcoming in: The Battered Suitcase, Zygote in my Coffee, Right Hand Pointing, Poui: Cave Hill Journal of Creative Writing, Writers’ Bloc and Temenos: Central Michigan University’s Literary Journal. Flutter Press published his chapbook, At the Tail End of Dusk (2009). |
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Dark Lady Poetry, 2010. All Rights Reserved. ISSN 2152-8594