The OrphanAGE, Vol. 1.38

May I, monsieur, offer my services without running the risk of intruding? ~ Albert Camus, The Fall (Justin O'Brien's 1956 translation)

We turn a corner. Another election looms, and its prospect twists in our gut. Sleep is a distant relation who will not write or answer their phone. While scrolling, we stumble upon a haunting vid. In our inbox we find that a friend has forwarded a few new poems. And yet, the rain comes in the night.

Peace,
Dante

In This Issue:

• Video by Jim Z McGowin
• Poetry by Ezhno Martín

Poetry by Ezhno Martín

old gasoline guts

they are going to have to cook
my liver in red wine
three pounds of yellow onions
a bee’s nest (whole)
and the blood of a MAGAT
if they plan to eat me alive

I’ve been running from my problems
with the frenzy of a tuna
for 40 years

and I’ve turned my insides into piss-soaked
stone sour
shoe leather
I can smell rotting
every time I speak

your average feed chicken
is dead from the egg in 47 days
why do you think they are so sweet?

and we don’t bother to eat the sheep
we steal our sweaters from
winter after
near death winter?

Tinder (Actually it was OkCupid)

I have been living
in the world
where nothing changed

before we learned the difference
between unforgivable
and unforgettable

back before we believed it was irreconcilable
but it was better than being alone 

back when we said we were going to fuck ten times on Saturday
and lost track

back when
“you broke my pussy”
was romantic

and “I would kill the neighbors for you”
was our shared motto

I'm living in the world where my best friends weren’t women you were jealous of

I'm living in the world where you didn't break furniture 
and windows
and your hand
when you were mad at me

I'm living in the world
where the both of us didn't need
but desperately
the other one  
to be the happy one

I'm not letting go
of the night we rubbed glitter makeup on our faces
and kissed it off

We both knew that no one else
would like that
and even if they did
it wouldn't be as good

I'm living in the world
where our bodies grew so similar
that there was a pair of gray pants in our closet
that were reserved for bad days
when on some mornings
you'd watch me put them on
and I’d watch you put them on
for the solace of it

I'm living in the world were we felt beautiful 
and liked looking at pictures of us
…especially together

back before we made ourselves
and our life together 
ugly
because masochism
is easier than growth

I'm living in the world where
we were made for each other

like water and potassium

but the sparks
but the sparks
oh but the sparks