Edwin Torres

CELESTIAL SUITE: if I’m talking to you it’s because you can hear me

: : : NORTHERN STAR : : :

 

look at how I listen
to the wrong thing again
— disturbing a sky again
solstice calls
for more than feel-stice
action winter tea cup spiral
are you still with your love
who painted mine — what we say
to hear what we hear
— poetry can anything
if you let it —
wanna try to shadow twitch with tradition
look at how I listen
— to the wrong thing again

: : : EASTERN HIGHWAY : : :

               — Sueñosima — when you see me — let me join this waking world —
driving for how long … and still no sun between these lines … for how many hours on the coast … with Spotify numbing … no singer’s lyric … no someone else … no summer sung at 4am … on a lonely highway … turn off and wait by the road … shuteye for a few winks
               — I’m all about the luminal
said the liminal … flatness is a virtue … for a dispossessed globe … let me close my eyes … and see if something else … comes to me … wants to enter … this prime season … of endless white lines … on a black year … past horizon … that gesture of … your turn now … to reach through what I’m given … not an ending … but a sequence

 

: : : WESTERN HORIZON : : :

I liked living in the not-knowing
I liked the fog I was in
when I didn’t have a clue about you

there are fewer chances for mystery
as I move forward in my not-knowing
fewer moments of genuine void

that freefall is exhilarating
I wonder if that momentary arrival
in lack of ground

is made present
by the clearing
or by the letting

 

: : : SOUTHERN CROSS : : :

to be animal at the crossroads
to pack knowingly spare
to step inside the crevices by avoiding them
to reciprocate knowingly spare
to elevate ephemeral half-truths
scars of semiconscious attenuation

I had you in mind
the week is beginning or ending tonight, so I thought of you

the scent of your outline
mirror to mine, reach back
through a poem’s longest line, made longer to prove a point
honor the lost image
the forgotten form
once fleshed in spirit

we invent realities to explain our wants
the connective tissue of missing imperfections aligned
by the edges of our flight
if we were to scrape the burn impaled by our aim
by the faceless overture of awakening to creatures
we’ve never been

a crossing I visit
often, too many times, in midstride, I’m there
head turned, in each direction
crescent observers
me and my crossing, both of us, wondering
who moves who

Edwin Torres has taught and performed his multi-disciplinary bodylingo poetics for many years. He is editor of the inter-genre anthology, The Body In Language: An Anthology (Counterpath Press), and author of ten books of poetry including The Animal’s Perception of Earth (Doublecross Press), Xoeteox: the infinite word object (Wave Books), and Ameriscopia (University of Arizona Press). His work appears in Manifold Criticism, American Poets in The 21st Century: Poetics of Social Engagement, and Kindergarde: Avant Garde Poems for Children, among others.
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About Posit Editor

Susan Lewis (susanlewis.net) is the editor of Posit (positjournal.com) and the author of ten books and chapbooks, including Zoom, winner of the 2017 Washington Prize, Heisenberg's Salon, This Visit, and State of the Union. Her poetry has appeared in such places as The Awl, Berkeley Poetry Review, Boston Review, The Brooklyn Rail, Cimarron, Gargoyle, The Journal, New American Writing, The New Orleans Review, Prelude, Raritan, Seneca Review, So to Speak, Verse, Verse Daily, and VOLT.