Two Poems, by Ben Nardolilli
What They’re Trying to Tell Me
You were here, last night,
And this morning, I feel the trickle
Down of rain against my feet
And think you are crying, still here,
You never left, and my eyes cannot get up,
Crying, yes, but with me,
Your sadness stitching you to this room,
Brown eyes wet and rolling,
Your face gone for a swim in the sea between us.
Most Celebrated Work
Separate with some repeating symbol,
A gris-gris lacking contours
Where subtleties can hide away,
Cavities are the leading threat to icons,
Better to leave everything simple
And straight or else the gates of signs
Might decline erecting communities,
By these you can conquer, or at least
Merely endure as cryptic rivals,
Look at some of the best successes,
Six-pointed stars and crosses,
Hammers, sickles, and swastikas,
Avoid the repeating weaponry
Laid out over open blank pages,
What is needed is an emblem to badge
Up great masses and filter them,
Words are not enough, despite
The powerful appearance of calligraphy
