"Alone In the Corner" by Marisol Brady
Two poems by Karl Michael Iglesias
Through Hands
the first time you fell in love
you were on the undercard
of a sold out Pay Per View
at Madison Square Garden
landing shots to the liver
jabbing jawbone older men
cry in corners their bass in
your chest a brass instrument
you could kill someone in reach
you don’t ever want to be
touched puckered a leather fist
shuffle hip you can barely stand
never been more wanted in
your memory press forward
huff outstretched you have nothing
left to hurt with they will have
to knock you out cause’ you been
Puerto Rican through Cotto
Trinidad Camacho you
been bruising pride trusting war
you were on the undercard
of a sold out Pay Per View
at Madison Square Garden
landing shots to the liver
jabbing jawbone older men
cry in corners their bass in
your chest a brass instrument
you could kill someone in reach
you don’t ever want to be
touched puckered a leather fist
shuffle hip you can barely stand
never been more wanted in
your memory press forward
huff outstretched you have nothing
left to hurt with they will have
to knock you out cause’ you been
Puerto Rican through Cotto
Trinidad Camacho you
been bruising pride trusting war
Portrait as a Beach I Want to Walk in
Until I Am Always Lost
Until I Am Always Lost
tomorrow i hear the sudden hush of empty. tomorrow i digest tomorrow
over a steaming cup of tomorrow. i am not ready but cannot
wait for tomorrow. tomorrow been watchin my moves lately but don’t
watch me watch tomorrow. i’ll shower tomorrow. tomorrow found me
asleep in my long day. tomorrow picked me up and washed
my face in a fountain of may. i saw myself fresh greens and washed.
tomorrow i sun. tomorrow son’s me all the time and i’m used to that
because tomorrow raised me. tomorrow raised me right
down the street from a melted winter. tomorrow brings lunch
when i’m not ready for any advice. tomorrow tatted on my face. walk new
york to the train. if tomorrow comes for me in the middle of the night
wake my sleepy ass up and pray for me. for tomorrow
i might make a light out of myself. tomorrow is long-will. morning eyes
see tomorrow. tomorrow i spring and spin marigolds. kiss
after perreo. i enter as passionate coal and invite a brass song. a fire
lights my feet. i part from dark. doubt all script and direction
and tomorrow swells. tomorrow i remind. call me tomorrow.
over a steaming cup of tomorrow. i am not ready but cannot
wait for tomorrow. tomorrow been watchin my moves lately but don’t
watch me watch tomorrow. i’ll shower tomorrow. tomorrow found me
asleep in my long day. tomorrow picked me up and washed
my face in a fountain of may. i saw myself fresh greens and washed.
tomorrow i sun. tomorrow son’s me all the time and i’m used to that
because tomorrow raised me. tomorrow raised me right
down the street from a melted winter. tomorrow brings lunch
when i’m not ready for any advice. tomorrow tatted on my face. walk new
york to the train. if tomorrow comes for me in the middle of the night
wake my sleepy ass up and pray for me. for tomorrow
i might make a light out of myself. tomorrow is long-will. morning eyes
see tomorrow. tomorrow i spring and spin marigolds. kiss
after perreo. i enter as passionate coal and invite a brass song. a fire
lights my feet. i part from dark. doubt all script and direction
and tomorrow swells. tomorrow i remind. call me tomorrow.
Originally from Milwaukee, WI, and a graduate of the University of Wisconsin, Karl Michael Iglesias' work can be read on Apogee, The Acentos Review, The Breakwater Review, The Florida Review, RHINO Poetry, Kweli Journal, The Breakbeat Poets Vol 4. LatiNext, The Westchester Review, Third Coast, The Brooklyn Review, Voicemail Poems, Pigeon Pages NYC, and The Hong Kong Review. Iglesias' debut chapbook, CATCH A GLOW, is available now on Finishing Line Press.
Marisol Brady is a self-taught photographer whose work examines the ephemerality of capitalist excess, nostalgic distortion, times we’ve had, times we’ve been told we had, and the time we have left. They cast an optimistic, neon-lensed glance at the decay precipitated by the hyper-escalating economic inequality and planetary destruction of the past four decades that, with some squinting, recognizes its transformative potential. Originally hailing from Long Island’s south shore, Marisol lives in Brooklyn.
