Monday, January 11, 2016

3 poems || Felino A. Soriano


My physiognomy is forced.  I cannot control
each emblem within the wrinkles
wearing age and the subsequent denial
of why they began to deepen.  Nothing
develops without patina’s eventual
lather.  To be here is to resemble a
throat of deciphering apian.  To read
my face is to unfasten the sentence
into run-on justification.

What’s remaining here

A surname of constellation.  A
reviewed persona, ungraded.  A re
-used permission to appreciate
rhythm.  A wind of soft percussion.
A voice fractioned and finding hatched

A tomorrow monopoly

The coded language sparking insomnia. A vertical
hold on the throat and lauded figment.  The
bridge my breath sways and sustains.  A flattened
rhythm, faint and beyond.  The permission to
engage and abscond in scream.  A flail.  The
fixation.  A physical submerge of indefinite decision. 

No comments:

Post a Comment