Tag Archives: Michael Caylo-Baradi

An Autopsy for Another Weekend Night

I’m undressing you again, under the edicts of porn. The conspiracy began a long time ago, reducing us to bare essentials, the way twilights simplify the sun to candlelight weeping for more, on the curves and edges of heat. This … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

In the Age of Innocence,

I’m partial to the beauty of the city, each time you muscle me with tales mustering us into a glow faint as distant stars. We restore tears in this sanctum, and use the body to weep, and sweat into beads, … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Marrakech

drifts around your tongue littered with souks, alleys & nights distilled in silhouettes expanding in overlapping thumbprints * As always, thirst levitates through a garden of hair beyond navels & beards into an architecture of curves built for ablutions & … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

This hollow

is an assembly of bones, connected by scars crisscrossing each other into streets and alleys. Their corners are named by overlapping memories of things ancient, or as recent as the way you turn your face away from me, to capture … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Persistent Stories

of bodies crossing borderlines engorge the pitch of soundbites, and colonize revolutions in our blender. The camera distills their movements as new residents in the prison system of prejudice, incarcerated in speech fat with lists of violations that define a … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Communion

The skies are at it again, unable to bear their weight. Soon, the freedom of falling takes refuge on our bodies, colonizing every inch of us, with rabid certainty, as though, at last, they are destined to witness wounds simplify … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Dissolution

There is a hush in the room. It’s the city hiding beneath the scars on your face, buried deep in your touch, trying to escape in whispers, gasping for more. Then, shafts of streetlights wrap your body standing by the … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment