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

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 

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 

A Fall into Dreaming

I lay in the grass with a vision:

four trees in the corners of my space

their arms populating every periphery with foliage.

Gently swaying to drop beautiful dead gifts

for the ants running across my books and my arms.

I slept in the stillness and subtle motion of autumn

thinking of nothing but conversations that played

as though they had actually affected me.

Dry, locomotive words smearing my consciousness

like a rectangular eraser smears the artificial led.

A dream begins, but I’m unaware until it reaches

‘finis’:

To clean my dirty arms and soothe my swollen neck

I shower avec mon ami,

wiping and washing until she fears her skin

            will rupture and flee her.

She stands two heads above me on a step

the water blurring my visage

like my conversations do.

Entrenched in my muddied perception,

clarity arrives

from the shine off of her dripping calves and thighs.

I see clearly enough to scale these heighths

the legs shudder, clap, and feel thrilled;

there exists an impending fall.

I awoke to her reluctance of my advance

smiling with the luck I’ve had

in clear, conceptual dreaming.

The rain brings red foliage to my bed

with more haste than before:

A thunderstorm has awakened my love of color.

-Grant Durando 

10/2/12

Alvin and the Nightmares

Squirrels are madmen

crocheting a nest to start a fire

if only to have an edifice to throw

granite into.

Marbleized glares of thrill, delight;

time turns you three into criminals.

Screams are useless

for your ears are too small. 

-Grant Durando

~10/12/12

Excitement Curves Earthquake’s Architect of Mind

I am the architect of mind

tipping off structure, shaking.

Uncontrolled motion leads to profit.

I am the architect of mind.

Turtles can change from doves to sea monsters

swimming with gentle wings, flying with peace

or encroaching on the foamy curls of the sea

with blinding tail whips and silent strangulations.

Whose to say which I mean to signify

they’re all your monsters

            I’ve just introduced them.

I have my own demons and snakes that swim

sliding over my feet so I don’t feel them

until I’m snagged and trip over what seems to be

myself.

Snakes and turtles will send me to Hell.

-Grant Durando 

10/4/12