by RJ Schmitz
Teen' Hood
ol’ creed, I praise
the bond tied sharp n tight, bare
naked feelings,
abstraction strips n tease. Proustian
madeleine blast, ignite da gasoline scent, abuela’s
soup fuckin’ smell, taste, wait, excuse
da fuckin’ manners. You said I’d to remember. The barn owl hoots,
electric blu DS, cryin’ in purpl. Then I recall. The psalms, dat litany,
manic growls howlin’, an ilk o’ sublimation of my
child’ hood barn. BlackHole farm. Straw stench, crawlin’,
mourned &missed,
under da chubby cheek.
Vena Cava
severed head to the rear ov
dat high-gloss, leaderless hearse, bloodstained
shrine, hopes laminated, stainin’ da river red.
****
RJ Schmitz is a Paris-based writer. His debut opera will be released this winter.