Harry Edgar Palacio
Lyre, a body of song, cowering from a strange dark
A promising gaze where Prometheus collected flint and kindling together and inflamed human history
When those years weighted by memories are your only children stirring ill befallen fate
A television buzzing white light in tandem with a stationary fan howling its plea to the moon-void
Neon alarm-clock glows with an aquamarine bite
A requiem for moments passing down the habits we keep
A plasticine siren calling for her Odysseus
A madman by the mast of the bed, wrapped in a comforter of white down
Juggling between the fingers of his hands a lotus fruit from which he inhaled and migrates to the far reaches of the sky
There is a beige woman pressing herself upon the hipbone asking me if I want something else
The body wanting nothing more than to turn all the lights out in the room and disrobe
To turn the shower on and wait for me
It’s like being swept into the sea washing away black nightfall from unknown hands
Invisible creatures of earth’s skin
A quickening like sterile eyesight those fragile egg membranes a crater of tiny birth
Where a bubble of sonic speed rubbed out the nib of nerve, warbling one to the other in hushed prose: mycelium like drums on an off-beat, oval shaped wombs with the hollow of estranged pitter patter of a phantom fetus, a river of tangents floating by like storms
We ship build this house a catacomb of pandemia
Blueish light at the traffic stop not knowing what to do
Your purse-shaped tongue that became hours of nude springs
Waters rage circulating through veins carrying chairs, Chevys and houses along with men, women, children and dogs chasing their tails like a carousel
A foreigner’s words half here half there weighing a dimension of endlessness on what work means
A visitation of a passed father as my docile mind wanes over time moving away from us
Like milk herds gathering a flock into the silent gestation of night a silent ghost like popping a house would announce
Stillness measured in dark remedies
Dollops of quiet light
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Harry Edgar Palacio has been accepted to be published in Rigorous, Tule Review, Apiary, Storm Cellar, Quail Bell, Ice Colony, and elsewhere. Harry has a chapbook “Ambrosia” (Finishing Line Press) 2019 and a book Sutras of Tiny Jazz (Finishing Line Press) due to be released March 2021. He has a Master of Education from Manhattanville College. He worked as an assistant director of a social justice center. Harry was an art teacher in the Dominican Republic. His parents are immigrants, his mother is from the Dominican Republic and his father is Colombian. He has performed his poetry at Embark Gallery, Peekskill Open Studios, One Billion Rising, and Energy Movement Center Studio. He also lives with schizoaffective disorder.