Ben Nardolilli Traverses Ancient Riverbeds, Deserts of Pills, Lyres That Are Orifices, The Laboratory of "To Be"

Life Pictures

His grip sucked the life
from ancient rivers,
whose substance was earth,
the welcome house for all

with sores on,
I received your words
without pride, with
the right human veins,

the world opened, others
persuaded you,
their eyes criss-crossed, flashed
like rotten anger

a salty soul,
witch of an euro-american legend
to our mouths,
a sweating gown

deep like the day,
orifices like lyres,
we commuted in the worse
on all their words and pictures


 Saturday Morbid

Waking up with the hope this morning
Of finding the ambergris of good health,
I emerge from a mattress, cracked
And divided like a desert lake bed,
My mouth an oasis for green pills.

Last night I dreamed I was better,
But I still had misfortunes to deal with,
Swimming in the water by a cruise ship
My sister and I were nearly hit
By an airplane tumbling from the sky.

Now the coughing starts up again,
My lungs pulse like swollen red vines
Woven together in a tapestry of irritation
And my nose drips a steady stream
Of whatever lubricant cools my thoughts.


Soliloquy in Late May

Am love, am good to be
Removed and lost,
Am we that you are, am just,
So many to spend, am value,
Wanted by others, am valued,
Spending years, am a halo
Going back around a board,
Am as bad the value,
Almost am failure, am almost
A warning for everyone else,
The mind to mind being made,
Just you taken, am a big laboratory.
Am a receiver for the projection,
The station, the direction, she,
Am beneath you, am the dislike,
Am the cane and shoes to bear.


Ben Nardolilli currently lives in Arlington, Virginia. His work has
appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine,
Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, THEMA, Pear Noir, The Minetta
Review, and Yes Poetry. He has a chapbook Common Symptoms of an
Enduring Chill Explained, from Folded Word Press. He blogs at
mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking to publish a novel.