Tag Archives: Andrew Mercado

The Bolts are Rusted

The bolts are rusted—bars bending, bulging. Ground well-seasoned for acrid escape and moving with the figure in stained, torn clothes. He pushes past his broken bones mended through his will while—bars bending, bulging. Crucial agony put torn pall bearing creeeeek. … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Inimitable Sure Blankness

My swipes travel through the inlaid construct. Through switches arbitrary, foreign machines in uncharted lands when I can only hear the drone and inevitable dive. Indebted reckonings, the hidden eye of uncertainty. A backhand—but corners heave dormant stones. A straight—but … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment