Poetry — May 27, 2014 10:49 — 0 Comments

Two Poems – Andrew Bartels

EQUINOX

dress returns as apple blossoms
above the path

green against white
brass pin fitted to its groove

the door clicks open
down the hallway, into the kitchen

open water, the skyline
reflected a marble slab

in unnatural wavelengths
shipping crate gripped in chains

moving vertically, we forget
all conceptions of latitude

Ground-heat warms the organs
Sea-heat wavers like an aura

Sky heat works on the head first
narrowing into tenuous isthmus

the Caribbean glistens
the Pacific bulges

 

 

RESTAURANTS

Now a thick cloud layer insulates
the leaves stuck fast

or else a gust of wind
might dismantle Crown Heights

this vacancy is temporary
plastic flowers

from an outdoor speaker
I have made the daily ballet

sustain a population
now it’s raining I think

the oak tree’s branches black
I’d love a drink

Bio:

Andrew Bartels earned an MFA in poetry from Brooklyn College. Recent poems have appeared in The Atlas Review and Inpatient Press. He lives in Brooklyn, NY.

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What am I?

Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies

Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;

Scientists can't find me.

Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—

Remind me:

The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…

Tick, Tock: Divine me.

-- Richard Kenney