TERRE DES HOMMES
by Gabriel Palacios
Whether your
misfirings Spread
fingers In a wasting
slick Red heat —
Must it be Adjudicated
now? Close your eyes,
squeeze Off, the blowing
dust areas
Have you hustling The
square Uneyeglassed stroll
To get your sweepstakes
letter
Stone veiled virgin Fed
wadded up News
lacquered over
Post-traumatic
mermaid
Crucified against The bow
of who brought you Here
You ebb
With moon & bless a
slow arrival You can’t
punch for shit In a
dream
Can’t spend four minutes in
that Closet without spending
Twenty-two Dollars just to feel
Unrained on
Leak out Like a
sidewinder High-
Beam blinded
On the
sawdust Just
to Feel unreal
Of course they try to sell you
everything It’s a hospital Criss &
crosswise blood types, Births wheeled
to a light
On the corridor’s point of
convergence In your own way You’ve
tattooed Some warranty agreement
Between your eyes
alright One night you’ll
show A kind of captain
Your room key
To get let on the
party-boat Empty out your
pockets Unprepared to
fade This one out
In
jailslippers
Can everyone
tell
Gabriel Palacios lives and writes in Tucson, Arizona. His poems have recently appeared in The Volta, Typo Magazine, Territory Magazine, Pulpmouth, Contra Viento, Spoon River Poetry Review, Bayou Magazine, The Brooklyn Rail, and other journals.