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I’m hitting a point now where I’m pleasantly surprised that people want to publish their work on my site.  I suppose it’s the phase right before pompous egomania when you assume the stance of “well of COURSE people want to submit essays to my blog.  I’m a celebrity damn it.”  With any hope my good breeding and lack of substantial ego will prevent this from happening.  If it doesn’t, more’s-the-pity.  At any rate a friend of mine recently contacted me and asked if I would be willing to publish a few of his poems on the cite.  I made him mow my lawn and clean my toilets for seven weeks, but after a while I relented…okay now the ego’s starting to take over.

Please enjoy these five beautiful poems, care of Brad Douglas.

 

 

Commune

 

I.

 

I use my hands to pull up your mud,

my nails to get at the gems inside

the cavern your back hoards,

 

and I am closer than any panting jeweler.

 

I go to work

excavating with kiss and pinch,

pulling you to me.

 

II.

 

You move like the earth

upon itself, leaving markings

where you once were.

 

You know these bones are blood iron

and break them, so they are yours.

 

You bury me in you.

 

III.

 

When I lay soundless

your pressure molds me

crystalline.

 

When your skin shivers

I am touching the soft walls

with luster.

 

When we break

how we shimmer in the other.

__________________________________________________

 

Arches

On your bleeding thigh

my hand

moves in your pulses

 

Before you might fall

you breathe

and lean into me

 

Where the blood stays

our weight

will be bandaged together

______________________________________________________

Umbra

Brad M. Douglas

 

My skin glows from light

cast in dark

searching

 

We dilate into the other

 

You are revealed in light

held by dark

outlines

___________________________________________________

 

Night Vision

The day we screamed until our throats scraped away

and you cancelled your wedding anniversary to teach me a lesson,

I crawled under my bed, past the dusty marbles, beyond

the body bagged comics; clawed until I was covered

by all I had ever been, and in that moment,

you were a monster, not a mother,

and I no longer feared the dark.

 

 _________________________________________________

 

bite my shoulder

by the time the morning

wrapped us in dew-soaked gauze

our nails were already sharpened

and we cut the sheets to catch the breeze

 

 

Brad Douglass

About the Author:

“Brad M. Douglas is a Texas-based writer. His first book, a volume of poetry titled “For Love” was self-published in 2009, when the author was sixteen. He has been at work on the follow up ever since. Many of the themes found in his writing are largely informed by Dylan Thomas, Jeff Buckley, and Derrick Brown. This leads his words to have both a vocal and introspective aspect; they may be either screamed or whispered, so listen close.”

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