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Taylor Brady – 3 Poems from The Block Party

Taylor Brady
3 Poems from The Block Party

of density clothing or
closing over pores debarred
from ridge on thumb
a destiny oneself impressed
deep nap of cloth
in green iris lid
closing over pairs entwined
rough wrap with scaffold
and it hangs a
shade around and over

them a dirge a
slow snore of sound
clothes them green them
asleep unmirrored them
enclosed in sleep enclose

the iris in ridges

of own impress reflected
virgin look pressed into
lovers shaded in construction





in which the questions are
wrongs, always wrong, are in
question, who done us wrong
tricked us out of light

there’s a count one wrings
out of scrutiny at market
two who paw each other’s
luxuries exchanged in number’s funnel
in reverse tricks out in
three-button jackets on some few
backs or furtively from backs
of trucks a scarcity assure
that one more stands without
the circle of the light

hand to hand being holy
palms or palms off some
outside chance in foursquare cornered
on the blue flames mark
curtained air to stink like hell
drawing lions out of streets





is time to clear my throat, ruined
grace in foyer building up the face
or cutting a facet in the topaz,
the tourmaline, the grainy sandstone pebble i
suck to swallow then choke, hack into
blue two-wheeled bin as ballast for must
of curdy milk jug, wet cardboard, bottle

or must not: the unlimited sadness of
the present tense is that we are
bedecked and draped in orders that enter
us to sublimate like pop rocks like
gravel ground down under tongue, an order –
in words i roll downhill to nick,
fizz against the time counts your breathing
throat up, out, as a resonating flute
columns hold, release into peaked roof breasting
that storm of dying particles that is
sunlight ghosting hydrocarbon auras wherever you step
off always one stop ahead – undone, done
in play among the orange-shirted children, ordinary,
ordinal in file who crossed against your
light, lump in my throat, you leave

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