Edwin Torres

Who is quitting dogs today? Making them their sister? Who is stretched out by a lamppost sibling? Illuminated by ransom’s note? I was oblivious to pettiness until I saw its first handle: obey ignorance. Stomach decisiveness. By that, this decision . . . no decision. Let it be to gain all it can in one fetter . . . but if it be life, let it attempt a failed recognition. Let its thinker be the failure. My thinker is failure, and I want to teach it how to move in this world. Do you be or live? To any the other wants. To both these words, I fail to be. When I am, but when not . . . It is, as if alive.

taking in what it hears surprised at the way of path the laid down before the adventured after smiling grip on what you want would never let me down I know you we say after never having met how listening to the other side makes you wish for quiet miles of ocean beneath this rock go on let your hair down such subtle indignity a sunset against a moon looking for a way out but I won’t say anything won’t call you on your everything you where you are and me right here saying yeah with a shut mouth

Pixie-dust infusion shoots steady shock through incline— is that crooked or slyster meat tong, grabbing hold of night so as not to pulse so bright past outcome Pardon the excess—it’s a point to make that out of all this dirt comes glass or shiny sheen meant to gloss over rough spots—let’s moan and breathe At one time, so that anything shattered will sound pretty I need to show how I love—sound and vision if I sing and move to what I hear and feel, just for you Well, let’s see if we can match our limbs to the credible—or maybe the possible let’s play again, so that you know what you’re in for, when you save your last dance for glass How clutterdust of me— and here’s where I lose my head over a star system, a horny section ten thousand years older than me

THAT ONE , is a poet for all poets AH ,then I would suppose to be an edwin for all edwins