11/17/2016 0 Comments Two Poems by Sergio OrtizThe Mind is its Own Place We all yearn to go back to the edge of that fire and kick that fucking election, the religion, the race of an entire nation in the balls so everything breathes at the rhythm of our lungs. But none of that worries us now. We worry about the detonator of tomorrows, the almond beyond the shell, the shiny nugget, and the damn heat even when we know it’s November and an eerie cold is fast approaching. We want pleasure to surround our waist. It can be you, or anybody else who embraces my body already lightened by the burden of the world. Yes, you can take me to the sea inside where there is only the sound of blood running like a flowered beast. And so, we go back to our room tell yourselves, fuck it, it’s better this way? The Damage Something we were withholding made us weak Until we found out that it was ourselves The Gift Outright, Robert Frost Maybe life gave us too much at the beginning and we kept looking for a path that maintained enough of a balance so as not to become this pestilent air. Maybe life did not belong to us anymore, maybe the things we believed in were part of the damage, part of the petulant wind knocking down the walls of our nation. And if we had known the outcome would we have put our hands together or looked elsewhere, renounced everything to stay still so as not to cross the days that agonize? This is so immense it doesn't fit into tears. We’ll hear the results, but there’s no greater nostalgia than that of the future. Bio: Sergio A. Ortiz is a gay Puerto Rican poet, and the founding editor of Undertow Tanka Review. He is a two time Pushcart nominee, a four time Best of the Web nominee, and a 2016 Best of the Net nominee. His poems have been published in hundreds Journals and Anthologies. He is currently working on his first full length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard.
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