DARRYL LORENZO WELLINGTON
| POETRY DEDICATED TO STRANGERS, LIVES AND
OTHERS IN STARRY DISBELIEF A new self at rebirthing inarticulate and stupid is a gangly doll half plastic, half human. The universe slopes such an undeclamatory evening like a tilted glass the stars gone milky the stars gone whitish milky near shadowless absence the grass the color of porous-hearted nostalgia the color of a still life reminiscence the still life the color of Goldenlight crackers, milk, and honey. **** The grief is implicit inside the sharing of stories Do you mean the sharing of stones? Regardless of whether I ask slowly, methodically, like a toy simulacrum, too much like a metronome, the chess pieces measuring an end game, the small pawns marching toward an upheaval the upheaval weightier than a cathedral Do you mean weightier than a culmination? so that I speak beneath a cathedral tomb and I ask whether I myself am duplicitous a toy inside an echolalic simulacrum Do I mean the grief is implicit?
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Volume 17 • 2022
