Brian Robert Kenney - Two Poems

Tectonics

the clay pushed its way out
through the cracks
between his trembling

fingers locked in frustration at his lack
of skill of patience of new
ideas holed up in his little room

creating and destroying
a miniature world the size of his
eyeball rolled back and forth

in the press of his palms
waiting for the spirit
to descend to transform to animate

staring into nothing walls
receding expanding receding
pulsing entrancing

dreaming not dreaming
seeing not seeing
nothing appeared to him nothing

but the wall breathing something
told him to look down there
in his hands his fingers

throbbing formed a heart
shaped fist inside gripped clay
heaved up in volcanic ridges

peeking like islands above
waves clenched grinding
the teeth of a hidden key



X

when you stumble across my remains
do you stitch them together

weave them into your monologue 
swaddle them in your senses

cradle the fleshy me-you
in your eye-mind

breast-lips mouthing I
do I tongue kiss you

with the sweetly rotten
breath of your lover-self

I the perfect you
in my newborn simplicity

singular arms crossed embracing
a crumpled heart long split

bones marking the spot in a plane
drawn in unspoken

X



Brian Robert Kenney is a writer and musician living in Minneapolis, Minnesota.