Poetry / February 2009 (Issue 6)


by Brian Urtz

Two trees grow side by side
            Jasmine hands clasping and tying
Uneven tiles esoteric imagery cloying
A thousand slick beds in deluge constructs
A boy climbs the tree called
Awakes with a start, a natural selection
A handful of pale yellow paralytic skin
            Deafening torrent of black pelt
Spinning Shinchon like silk like silk,
            Hiding behind speeding hulls and hofs
Soju women hanging out under raygun gothic
            Hand-held petals plucked from ascent
            Salt crystallized, Cheonggyecheon
Crowded into ugly cages in Itaemon
                        inside out at
                                                the wharf
Where idle dogs fight shame in glass hearts
            Spit walnuts, saffron, heavy fish bones
Bibimbap for every banquet and steampunk
            Breakfasts in sky courts with white noise
Two buildings grow side by side
            Disparate in the new rain like pelt
An anticipation of demur under frontier gothic
A girl climbs the tree called
And falls asleep chunks of nylon hair grasped
            To her breast shaking in the new rain
Their real names are
A boy sleeps naked and cold
A girl sleeps warm and alone
Quitting rain elucidates shifting battle lines
            red blue
All green cyberpunk
            red blue
            Two trees grow, and that. is. it.

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