Andrew Brenza


Spools

5 bandages of snow battered blanket pummeled sheet undertow of oblit- erating white indis- crimin- ate drift stiff stuff flooded coastal gloom come to their single note writ- shredded on waves of vorti- cal confetti

9 one mi- nute mo- ment be- (there)for(e) I must dally into another show- ered shoe shaved eye combed breath and neck- tie lolling like a tongue despair- ing thirst I should- er one mo- re mi- nute mo- ment of s- unlight on- e more mi- nuet of sun be- (there)for- (e) this

33 gravity waves words make space sponge- bent to a figure of accreted hands forlorn behind glass case centur- ies after you called it speech- growth, but manageable only as atoms flailing goodbye

34 hair wept its curve of pro- teins and it may have been a will- ow tree in wat- er's gently aping cries but some- thing pools to watch you take your feet says I've enough of human- ness shit and sighs to put a mouth into your head then bolts irre- vocably into the extern- ality of its leaves

39 name- less wa- ves of light on thi- gh's na- me- less text- ure I am bur- ied a- live in the bur- den of em- bodi- ment

Andrew Brenza is the author of Gossamer Lid (Trembling Pillow Press, 2016), a full-length collection of visual, concrete and word-collision poems derived from the 88 “official” constellations of Western astronomy. He lives in New Jersey with his wife and son.
 
 
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