20160205

Travis Cebula


Catalyst for Confirmation #2
alone with his           questions,
and aren’t we
all—


aren’t we meant?
to question distance

he queried the sky
whether it had always been
deeper at its center—

how far away
the indigo—

looks—

on faces,

in waves, and smaller,
the distance                between—
being a young
man and being         an old man
dwindles into
minutiae—

a distance
walked—
a meal
not eaten.
a grey beard
full of scrambled
eggs—

I blink more than
I used to.
I see less of—


the shrinkage                of his right—
his eye and the growth of
hunger trade stories
over a distance from
hunger.           a thirst overcomes—

is this myself?
am I?

within this                 sack of skin—
still. unmoving.
he asks and asks—
when was I young?
then—

five unlit cigars and five fingers—


a hand.

was that                      faith?





then—

can I write this                down?


then—

this coming
down—

this if—

this descent


Eucharist



to ash
finally

and




to breath


binds itself
breath

respiration





as by


an unanswered


question
is





survival


Catalyst for Confirmation #3



him
and happily then

in the sun






a river that plummets


black like

and starry


the cloudless sky

same the sky


same the width of





a church and happily
forget

reinforced
to forget
to forget flowers

of concrete and glass
grey


to the same life
himself


committed
unwillingly

he

that

she was so beautiful




beauty

in that
he believed







for the faithless


and everlasting


for eternally


to proclaim faithfulness






for the other




fires




and flame









waits with
its rude screen
and stony
curtains to

lick velvet

grey



hangs in the air for a moment—




smoke—
the slippers of burnt
sandalwood—

until


with stale incense

until with smoke
it




fills a tin plate


this
or anesthesia



a more lasting pew

from which to build






something

not wood, but






flame

and if given something
to burn—



Catalyst for First Communion #2



an inhalation—

this breath,

then.





we

aspire to

we.





and why

must be

why.



Catalyst for Marriage #1

to embrace the strange
flow of faces in a lunch hour—
eyes, brows, glasses, mouths—
therefore the City makes
a decision that one
will be different from before




then. be different from same.



autumn light testifies to
the crisp brim of a fedora,
chestnut felt and boiled
wool wrapped with black


satin. to honor and obey—

strip off your less necessary
clothes.

find a tryst somewhere metal
and away from the sun.

lean in close with your hand
behind my ear. pronounce your name.


City.


the others kiss, or other and

if formed for rather, she’d rather
beauty inform uniformity
like birdprints in wet concrete.




[lips]

[opening]










[to]


















[form]



[rings]





Travis Cebula lives and creates in Colorado, where he earned an MFA in Writing and Poetics from Naropa University’s Jack Kerouac School. His poems, essays, stories, and photographs have appeared internationally in various print and on-line journals. He is the author of six chapbooks and five full-length collections of poetry, including Dangerous Things to Please a Girl from BlazeVOX Books. In 2011 he was gratefully awarded the Pavel Srut Fellowship for poetry by Western Michigan University.
 
 
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