SPOTLIGHT: Pain Sections by Paul Ilechko

(… red flowers)

A naked body subject to the dreadful intimacy of pain which at times outweighs even the dreadful pain of intimacy

red flowers growing darkly scattered like a wound

a nautilus embedded in ancient rock (as if there were such a thing as modern rock)

existence is an idol sitting on a shelf a portrait of infamy crooked in the barber shop

climb the staircase hand in hand then part like the Red Sea as if a wave that split asunder as if two ways on the roundabout as if the notch of a limb where failure is self-evident

sinking into hallucination as an excuse to avoid the repetition rooms your pale skin your fingers red flowers growing between your scattered thighs your nautilus your body naked like a wound

 
(… marrow of purity)

A body drenched in joy
thicketed and bruised

overwhelmed with pollen
as wordless chaos works

the marrow of purity the same
fresh taste of turmoil

stitched between the pages
of an ancient luminosity

are you hiding in the woods?
conspiring with birds

that cleave tranquility
discarded fingerprints

embossed in shellac
as snowflakes melt between

the iron-tasting leaves that still
eclipse the lamp-lit room

 
(… worm shells)

worm shells cascade drizzling from the gray forgetfulness

worm shells in your hair as you scuttle under the saturation of rain-laden dogwood your grizzled face your exploding heart

* * * * * *

a single swallow of radioactive illuminates from the inside the exquisite interplay of organ

I am most concerned with the hole in my last glove even though there may also be a hole in my chest

a chest can be easily opened a single slice of silver blade a stroke and the bubbling liquid cascades absorbed and discarded as so much waste Inside this sterile place

repair reinvent and replace beneath a halogen glare

* * * * * *

the forest within me swollen with moisture

worms shells erupt spilling across a field of white linen

 
(… vagabond orphans)

see the skin-shackled
vagabond orphans

see the black emissions
see the planets orbit

with sonorous articulation
a modest campfire

see the stolen chains of shame
the convergence of geometry

particles failing
the test of existence

fading into night sweats
fading into leather

worn and creased
hiding themselves between

the grassy verges
of lost highway nights

 
(… color of assumption)

this is that point in time at which we assume the motion is porcelain white this is that point of time at which we assume the body is leaking water

the body is leaking ghost is a fist of leakage

we take our assumption of color down to the river between the cabins beside the river where trees dip their roots tentative into muddy brown water

down beside the muddy river where the deep black loam sticks in the throat like ash

where darkening voices resound with unearthly intent inside the dust that covers the moon with a veil of sadness

the moon that fades its whiteness into yellow as it hovers above the blue hills of Pennsylvania distance

Advertisement