Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Two poems by Jay Coral

Schopenhauer’s advice before Zen meditation

No, you are not
on a motorcycle
brandishing an inflated smile
and grooming a soul for cerulean skies
(let me tell you where you are)
you are ignoble dirt
on the groove of a burning tire
that inch you hide from skid marks
so you will remain unscratched
(let me tell you what you are)
you are a horseshoe crab dragging a million eggs
your fear of crossing the highway to spawn
softens tendrils and shells in the manhole
floating sinews like a teabag
floating sinews like a teabag
floating sinews like a teabag
no bone for you - regress
(let me tell you who you really are)
you are the snag that finetunes your own deconstruction.


Escaping the Minotaur

i tell myself
i will not turn away
from the scent of dry sweat
this nuclear vinegar of body odor
this monstrous delight
he is a weary minotaur
settling in airconditioned air
after a hard labor in the construction site
explosive as his orange shirt
he sits in combustible pose
burned arms like lava rocks
sanding the library table's edge
maized hair too thick
to be rocked by the draft
and dark nostrils flaring
excited steams of acid
in his cragly hand he holds
erotic literature
his fierce eyes devouring virginal words
and his grip skinning libidinal reins
i thought of offering the skinny librarian
will he be appeased?
i doubt
i thought of cutting his head
but he knows that already
he will snap the yarn
and leave me wandering in the labyrinth
of my curiosity

Author bio:

Jay Coral still dreams about the sexy librarian who will dirtytalk him with freudian ideas. In the meantime, he spills repressed thoughts at Blue Jay Eye.

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