A Hearth Full of Demagogues [Incendios En El Hogar] by Joe Milazzo

By  | May 5, 2015 | 0 Comments | Filed under: Poetry



A Hearth Full of Demagogues [Incendios En El Hogar]
Gates of iron gild the ringing
of your foreign village, chambers
scented with cornmeal
no longer yours to diagram.
Not with rivers dreaming there
in the forgotten flesh of guavas,
sour as Wednesday’s optimisms.
Or a sleeping world’s edge
numbered among the pink sleeves
flown glib from the morning sun.
The belated uncles, flowering
like jeers beneath the verandas,
they turn the roads towards bothers.
Smiles might grant some passage,
mesas not lie alone, could
you cede the somber illumination
of your gigantic fevers.
The old things of life tower over
lost convergences. Yet you cannot
begin to think of salvage, not
meeting your boot-less
and unspun self
in drawing a drink of water
from the coyote’s bugle.



Joe Milazzo is a writer, editor, educator, and designer. He is the author of the novel Crepuscule W/ Nellie (Jaded Ibis Press) and The Habiliments (Apostrophe Books; forthcoming, 2015), a volume of poetry. His writings have appeared in Black Clock, Black Warrior Review, The Collagist, Drunken Boat, Tammy, Vinyl Poetry, and elsewhere. He co-edits the online interdisciplinary arts journal [out of nothing], is a Contributing Editor at Entropy, and is also the proprietor of Imipolex Press. Joe lives and works in Dallas, TX, and his virtual location is www.slowstudies.net.




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