20 Jul Luis Neer
THE POET APPROACHES LIGHT SPEED
with my hands i make a sculpture of your voice
sometimes i tie it to pigeons sometimes i set it on fire
my face held taut with clothespins i stare at the ceiling until it moves and my mouth makes whining noises
i am standing in my grandmother’s house flushing a poem down the toilet
your postcard is in my eyes where you scribble over everything
i grab my hair i spin the broken wheel
i sing to a therapist about you
when he says your name it sounds naked and dead on a beach like an unknown creature
i title twelve dead poems ‘the poet approaches light speed’ but i never collide with a wall
now i approach light speed it all comes together i spin the broken wheel
submerged in swimming pools of i don’t realize i don’t mean i don’t intend
holding a dozen roses as they become funhouse mirrors
holding a dozen roses that look like broken pencils
gripping ten thousand roses as tightly as possible
LEARN TO LOVE YOUR LONELINESS
On several occasions I have been told that I
Underestimate the emotions of others
I know itโs true
I donโt give people credit they deserve
I have also been reminded
That everyone feels the way I do
Now and then
Everyone feels the way I do now
I know this is not true
I know not everyone feels this way
I feel this way
I feel this
There is no now and then
There is only then and nowโ
Then
I would lie on the floor
And watch the ceiling swirl
Now
I will not lie on the floor
My body thinks itโs a centipede
Like the centipede that scurried out
From under my books
In French class last Friday
I thought it mean something
The walls have gone dark again
They are blacker then they have ever been
I wonโt see anyone
I donโt think I can see anyone
I drink this loneliness
My brain calls it nectar
In this place
Past underground
This place
Past shadows
This monochrome
Shrill black silent wilderness
Feeds me
Feeds on me
I give it every memory
Photographs songs poems
Old words and happy things
Gone to dust
Itโs an agreement
I think
An agreement to try
To believe the promise of new sunlight
In the presence
Of swollen darkness
I try
I try to imagine stars on this ceiling
I know
I know not everyone feels this way
Not everyone feels like this
If everyone felt like this
The world would always be quiet
LUIS NEER IS A SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD POET FROM WEST VIRGINIA WHOSE WORK APPEARS OR IS FORTHCOMING IN MAUDLIN HOUSE; LITERARY ORPHANS; ALIEN MOUTH; THE RAIN, PARTY & DISASTER SOCIETY AND ELSEWHERE. HE TWEETS @LUISNEER.
