Have you ever felt the need to strike the horizon but a hunter advances you? It’s that same dream we have in fragmented bursts and we follow its voice into the metropolis of hearing We always meet at that same cliff to integrate our departures Yet you never hold the persona I see you hovering like unanswered prayers This must be adoration The way I wage war with those incidental hemispheres The way I long for thorns while my smiling platforms turn The way my silence runs with sleep through strands of eve This is the sanctuary’s spinal cord We hold it in our soluble arms and face one another, praying that evenings will return unbridled I’ve cancelled all of my interactions for the rest of the year I’ve rescheduled my meetings with the infrastructure for next Thursday I’ll do anything to yawn with your engine Fever, collect the chattering leaves and throw them in the air or eat them at the gates of atmosphere I am not one to greet in a fog’s good day but this laughing river may be the answer to our misinterpreted callings
Louis Bardales (b. 1987) is a Guatemalan American poet and painter from Chicago, Illinois, where he graduated from Columbia College. He writes poetry and makes poetry comics in English and Spanish. His poems have been featured in Columbia Poetry Review, Pinwheel, Otis Nebula, Moss Trill, N/A Review, and his poetry comics have been featured in Red Ink.
