Friday, January 25, 2013

Pass


I can’t underline anything
without crossing it out
(at least partially)
if not completely.

In writing that line
I made so many mistakes

can I gain my own forgiveness?
            ….with the same tools
with which I crucified myself.

That lad who passed upon greenery lake
saw inside himself: the earth rotates

like a dial!
            Revealing the floorplan that holds
the sculptures of my work
as I walk up the steps of Purgatorio
a Kanafani.

Our guide says:
            “No, this is not a time for rest.
                        7 minutes, I’ll leave you
                        in a boiling camel tank
                        of scorching metal and
                        suffocating air.
                        7 minutes.”
When he came back
our faces had melted off.
Never think that you’re fated
to run the dial;
that’s God’s job.

You’ve been laid off           
of every line of responsibility
from each of the words on this page:

“Can you believe that we’re only
a couple lines, two dimensionally aligned
for your ends to meet your means?”

-Grant Durando 

Halloween Everyday


I want to be Jay-Z,
doing what I want and
            on top of it.

Fucking his passion
                        24/7
in neon.

-Grant Durando

Monday, January 21, 2013

Not Write


Bless you. Good morning.
I’ve eaten too much grass again.
Was it the first time?
Or was it the first time…
How’s that thing getting on with that person?
Not sorry; brevity in motion.
Steady decline, steady decline
down the forbearer of chaos;
Bowling pins hit the alleyway
jussssst right.

-Gran Durando 

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Twelve Seasons


In twelve seasons we ascribed
to a notion that one snowflake would melt
on both of our cheeks as the same
rain drop
falling out of two ominous skies
into our outstretched hands
turned over
onto two leaves fallen from two trees
to become the Earth and fertilize one flower.

Yet, our seasons come and go together now
            we’re together now:
our cheeks protect the other from tyrannical flakes
as our hands clasp each others to stay safe from rain
no turning over, backflipping poisonous moisture
to the autumn leaves

we need no flowers now, our bud has blossomed.

Why do we still need dead petals around
open mouths, rosy faces sublime with consummation?
Why do we still need dead petals around?
            Because we need a new season
            a new precipitation.
Participation, recreation, seasonal consummation.

-Grant Durando